So here I am, 2 months graduated from college with a head full of ideas. I’m hard at work with a PR agency here in Miami, I have a ton of projects lined up, I’ve teamed up with a dear friend and have started working with a few great clients of my own. I have an awesome partner and a fabulous mentor to guide me. I’m on top of the world, a budding flower, a fledgling eagle. It’s happening. I got this.

Ah, bliss.

Bliss, that is, until feedback’s sharp needle of truth suddenly burst my continually swelling bubble. I was served up a fat slice of humble pie.

Ah, reality.

Mind you, it was a very nice slice of humble pie from a friendly source. It was calm and straightforward, served warm, with a carefully-crafted crust of honest feedback, filled with patience and topped off with a generous glob of sweet understanding. My submission needed a little [*cough* lot of] extra tailoring, which I was certainly capable of doing, so could I finish it, please?

Earth-shattering pie.

Oh my god. I screwed up. Even with the option of redemption, this fledgling just wanted to crawl back into the nest and pull the eggshells over my head. I had let someone down. I couldn’t believe it. How could I have done that? How could I have assumed that? Blegh.

I retreated into my little cave of personal frustration for a wallow session. ‘Why hadn’t I been more careful?’  I wailed to myself. ‘Why did I ever think something like that should be submitted?’ It was terrible. I was terrible. Boo hoo hoo.

But obviously, yelling at myself wasn’t exactly fixing the problem. With some effort I restrained the steel-toed boot of my inner drill sergeant and began to examine the facts as I saw them. Yes, there was an issue with it and it didn’t necessarily align with my personal standards *wince*… but the point was, it was there in black and white and now I could see it clearly.

In other words: band-aid speedily removed. Pie eaten. Message received.

I realized that instead of curling up in my cozy pit of despair… I would fix it. I would make it better, as she knew I could and I would never, ever make the same mistake again. Ever.

So I immediately got to work and crafted a submission that was 150% better than my initial one. In other words, um, in line with my own abilities. I hacked away at it, still occasionally grumbling humbling things to myself about myself, but at least the healing had begun. I worked through it. I fixed the problem. I produced work the work that I should have submitted originally. Joy!

So the moraI of the story is this. I would put this experience, this criticism, this hot poker of personal frustration into my memory bank and save it forever. 150% percent effort and perfection at all times is the standard I set, so why would I provide anything less? I would live and I would learn (and probably blog) and I would never repeat the same mistake.

It was a crucial lesson.