TOIDI

All the ways I've been an idiot this week

My sister’s painting was in the FT last weekend. I like to flatter myself and think this looks like me and Joab. Photo courtesy of Rod Stanley.

Joab said that I’m almost certainly on the list of idiots at my work now, and he’s right.

On Monday I clicked a link in a suspicious email. This, after taking several of those compliance courses that you have to do when you work in a corporate setting. The courses where you watch a video telling you about all the signs to look out for (suspicious links, generic greetings, spelling mistakes) and then you take a multiple choice quiz.

I passed the quiz, but failed the real-life test. I opened a work email with a title that made me curious, but that had a big red banner above the invitation, saying, ‘Are you sure you want to open this email? It looks like it might contain a suspicious link.’

Truth is, I just love receiving things, and get excited, and my impulsivity takes over, and I forget the hours of compliance courses that I’ve been forced to complete. Obviously, they’ve taught me nothing.

And if you’re going to look for the funny side of owning up to making a mistake (which I did, by emailing my work phishing department to tell them that I’d been phished) I realised very soon after this, that they were the ones who’d sent the phishing email. As a test.

I realised this very soon after I’d sent the confession email, because I thought back to the message that appeared after I’d clicked on the suspicious link in the email. “YOU’VE BEEN PHISHED” is what the message said, followed by a checklist from the phishing department of things to look out for in future, so that you won’t fall prey to clicking on random links again.

Oh lord, after my confession email, I’ll be on my work’s list of SUPERIDIOTS.

Anyway, I’m glad that I can spot my idiotic mistakes, even if in my attempt to clear them up, I make even more. Do you think Trump, or Farage, or Putin (INSERT ANY DOUCHE-BAG POLITICIANS’ OR PUBLIC FIGURES’ NAMES’ HERE) ever actually acknowledge their mistakes? We know they don’t.

What happened in their childhoods to make them confidently go through life with the idea that everything that they think, say, and do, is right? I don’t want to waste my energy on thinking about it. I just want them to stop making mistakes that have a huge impact on the world.

This is a likely as me leaving any crisps in the pack when I’ve opened a bag.

Still, I like to think of myself affectionately as Homer Simpson. Messing up quite a lot, but at least being aware of what I’ve done wrong, at some point in the process. And knowing that my mistakes probably aren’t harming anyone, much. Joab is my Marge Simpson. He lets me know when I’ve messed up. He sometimes probably dreams of leaving, or living with someone more organised, or less addicted to snacking. But I don’t think he will, because, well. Love.

My eldest son is dealing with the fallout of a minor mistake he made a few months back. I feel for him. We all know what this feels like. And I told him about some of my bigger mistakes, and said, all of them felt really shitty at the time, but I barely think of them now.

My son’s pretty resilient, thank god. He understands, much more adroitly than I did at that age, that life is often just a series of difficulties that we must act upon. Sometimes, we make decisions that don’t give us the result we’d hoped for. These decisions were not seen as mistakes at the time – only later. So what can you do? Mistakes are part of moving forward, are part of life.

So, what other mistakes have I made this week, that were ill-judged decisions (mistakes) at the time of them happening?

I tried to make lunch in haste and in doing so, spilt yoghurt all over the kitchen cabinets and walls. This is harder than you think. First, you have to have a catering sized tub of yoghurt in your fridge. Then, you have to take it down from the shelf with one hand, and slightly wet fingers. Then you have to let it slip through said fingers, and in an attempt to save it from dropping, turn it the wrong way up by sort of batting it, so that it hits the wall on the way down to the floor. Yoghurt everywhere.

Ray must have watched yoghurt apocalypse and thought it looked very exciting, because he tried to re-enact the whole thing with a bowl of soup only a few hours later. I was trying to balance Ray on my hip, while carrying his bowl of soup to the table. And Ray thought it would be wildly exciting to see what would happen if he smacked the bowl out of my hands, and into the wall. Luckily the soup was lukewarm, and there was more in the pot for him (he hated it anyway), but there are still grease splodges everywhere, even after much wiping, and I know that decorating only takes place about once every 15 years in this house.

I ordered the wrong size kitchen handles. The vendor owned up to their mistake of putting the wrong dimensions up online, but still, I’ve got to arrange a return and find some handles that do fit. Meanwhile, I’ve half removed a couple of our old handles already, just to see if I can still use a screwdriver.

I almost turned up at the theatre a week early a few days ago. I do this all the time – get the days or weeks wrong. I’ve got calendars everywhere: physical ones, digital ones, shared ones. I just can’t seem to get the hang of putting appointments into them, and even when I do, I never actually manage to consult the calendar, which I think is key to remembering not just where to go, but when.

There used to be a very stern, punishing voice inside me that said: Oh my goodness. You are such an idiot!

And really, that voice could become very loud and relentless. But now, I have adopted a much kinder voice that tells me that I am often an idiot, but a harmless one.

Oh you got the wrong day, did you? Oh well, too bad.

Oh, you shrunk the jumper by putting it in with the bedsheets? Disappointing.

Oh, you’ve put the cat flap on locked from the outside in, rather than from the inside out, and the cat’s been out all night. No need to tell myself I’m an idiot. The cat just gave me his look.

In my fantasies, I imagine Trump reading this, and leaving a comment:

“I’m not really sure why I started this war when I was warned of the consequences, and I’m not really sure how to end it. Did I mention I can be a bit of an idiot sometimes? Send help!”

Have you messed up this week? I’d love to know when, and how if you can bear to share.

Have a good week, y’all. And if you liked this post, please give it a ❤️. It makes me feel like a loveable idiot.

PS. A beautiful handwritten letter arrived in the post today. I haven’t received one for years. Yes, I get postcards, but a letter, on lined paper, with proper rollerball handwriting? Never! It was totally exquisite. I could hear my friend’s voice so clearly. I feel inspired to send her one back now.