Here’s why you should become foolish

Ever made a fool of yourself?

I know I have. Many times.

But I never wanted to. When I was growing up, being foolish was not at all desirable, or even tolerable. The world was divided into educated people and fools. The latter were illiterate, unprofessional, ignorant. They were not allowed to make any decisions that affected other people.

You had to become one of the serious people. Sober. Thoughtful. Erudite.

I thought I’d joined that desirable group. Until the pratfalls started stacking up. In school. In university. In employment. In business.

An example: when I was just a month or so into my first-ever consulting job in London, I had the fortune of working on my employer’s biggest-ever assignment. Very high-profile, very hush-hush. What did I do with the privilege given to me? I left a bag of highly confidential documents in a car park. It doesn’t get dafter than that. I should have been fired, and would have been, but for the forbearance of a benevolent boss.

There have been many other howlers in my personal and professional life.

And yet, here I am. Gwen Stefani is often quoted as saying: “After you make a fool of yourself a few hundred times, you learn what works.”

Aha. The blunders and idiocies of our lives are not the exceptions to be avoided; they are the milestones in our journey to any modicum of success.

This does not mean that we should wilfully seek to be fools; rather, that we should accept that everyone is, and that’s good. Our foolishnesses are the experiences—and the scarring—that make us stronger and wiser.

We learn better when we have messed up—as long as we are willing to pick ourselves up and improve. If we try to cover up our occasional asininities, or just deny them, we learn nothing.

But wait. Foolishness comes in two varieties. The useful kind is modest and deliberate: take the hit, own up, laugh at yourself, note the lesson. The harmful kind is careless and performative: get lazy, repeat errors, make bets you can’t unwind, or put other people at risk. One builds judgement; the other erodes trust. Practise the first; refuse the second.

Be the teacher who writes her own mistake on the board and lets a pupil fix it—so that both sides learn. Be the boda rider who takes a few wrong turns before mapping the city like a pro. Be the CEO who sees the problem with the product as soon as customers touch it, fesses up, then fixes it.

Graduate from the school of oops. Be the mjinga who gets laughed at but who’s learning through all the guffaws. Be the bewaqūf who’s quietly learning the real ropes and will release the game-changer.

Our fumbles and false starts aren’t exceptions; they’re useful tuition. Useful foolishness is humility with a plan. If we can strip out our ego, we can mine our messes for the wisdom they contain.

So, every time you or your team mess up: one page, three headings: What happened? What surprised us? What will we do differently next time?

THE SIGNAL IN THE NOISE

Be brave enough to look silly, and disciplined enough to learn fast.

 

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