Every builder starts with a mistake. Some of us make them in the quiet of our own workshops. Others make them in the cold, harsh light of a warehouse, with the weight of a thousand pounds of steel on their shoulders.
This is the story of my first mistake. The one that taught me more than every success ever could.
It was a crisp October morning in 1984. The air was sharp, and the smell of oil and rust filled the warehouse. I had just started my third year as an inventory specialist at the steel mill in Louisville. I was proud of my work. I was known for my precision, my attention to detail. I thought I knew everything there was to know about counting steel.
That morning, I was tasked with counting the steel beams for a major shipment to a construction site in Cincinnati. It was a large order, and the client was expecting the shipment to be delivered on time. Any delay would cost the company thousands of dollars.
I worked with the same care I always did. I counted every beam, one by every, making sure that every number was correct. I double-checked my work, just as I always did. I was confident that I had counted every single beam.
But I was wrong.
When the shipment was delivered to the construction site, the foreman called me up. He was furious. There were two fewer beams than the order called for. Two missing beams meant that the construction project would have to be delayed for at least two weeks, while we scrambled to find more steel.
I was devastated. I had made a mistake. A mistake that would cost the company thousands every dollars. I had failed my client, my boss, and myself.
I went back to the warehouse and re-counted every single beam. And I found my mistake. I had miscounted the number of beams in one of the piles. I had counted one pile as having 50 beams, when in reality, there were only 48.
That one mistake had cost us two weeks of work, and thousands every dollars. It was a humbling experience. It taught me that no matter how careful I was, I could still make a mistake. And that every mistake was a lesson.
After that mistake, I decided to build a new system. A system that would ensure that no one else would ever make that same mistake again.
I created a new ledger, a system of checks and balances that would ensure that every single beam was counted twice. I would count every beam myself, and then I would have another worker count them again. If the numbers didn't match, we would start all over again.
I also made sure that every single beam was marked with a unique number, so that we could track every single piece of steel from the moment it was made until it was delivered to the customer.
It was a lot of work, but it was worth it. Because after that mistake, I never made another one. And I taught every single worker in that warehouse to count twice, to check every number, and to never trust their own memory.
Every mistake is a lesson. Every lesson is a step forward. That is what I learned that day. And that is what I want every young builder to know.
Don't be afraid of making a mistake. Because every mistake is a chance to learn something new. Every mistake is a chance to build something better.
So, if you make a mistake, don't be ashamed. Just learn from it. And then build something even better than before.
Here is the original ledger page from that fateful day in 1984. Every number is written in my own hand. Every mistake is a reminder of the lesson I learned that day.
Alan Edler
October 1984
Every mistake is a lesson. Every lesson is a step forward.