Dotting T's and Crossing I's

Yesterday I received a call from a consultant on a Quality position. We had a pleasant chat, and then she had a couple of questions. The first was on a phrase I used in my CV, one that she had not heard of. I pulled up my CV on the computer and looked and sure enough, I had "clinical supplying kitting" instead of "clinical supply kitting". I confessed it was a simple error, she fixed it, and then we moved on.

After the conversation, a sudden sense of horror struck: that was the CV that had gone out to everyone else for the last week. Hurriedly, I began hitting websites, swapping out that minor correction.

Now, I am a person of punctuation and spelling. I am what in other years and other places might be called a zealot. It's how I make my living. So how did this get through? Not a misspelling, and certainly not a thing that most people would catch (I, and an HR friend, missed it), nor would the infamous Word Spelling Tool of Death give its friendly "Hey! Loser! This is wrong! You want me to fix it?".

In explaining my job function to a friend last night outside of the industry, I noted that what I did was ensure that biopharm products were safe and effective, a sort of dotting t's and crossing i's. I didn't even catch the slip but she did. We both laughed about it, and went on to other things.

But in the comment, and now in this minor error, I find a metaphor, the metaphor for success or failure.

It's the second check.

The reality is, while I prize exactness in writing, I very much dislike to edit. When I am done, I want to be done - mostly, I think, to avoid the function of criticism by self or others. The reality is, success in whatever form you measure it is an output not only of effort, but of the second check: the catching of the small things that might be wrong or are wrong, the things that stick out perhaps only to you but make the difference between good and great, the time spent checking and rechecking to insure that everything is excellent and as close to perfect as possible.

Napoleon Bonaparte (I'm reading a book on him now) was apparently like this. For all his faults (and they appear to be a great many), he had both a prodigious memory and the ability and need to check and recheck his plans and calculations, apparently in meticulous detail. As a result, he only lost twice; unfortunately for him, one was Waterloo.

I think for myself, part of the issue is that I don't want to take the time. I don't see the time as well spent - the time of creation (like writing this blog) is well spent, but not so much reading it word by word. But in reality, it is time equally well spent: the first for creativity, the second for communicability and the impression that it gives others.

The CVs I cannot call back. My life I still can.