Today’s incident was really something small.
I simply forgot to include my name at the end of an email.
And it wasn’t even the first message in the conversation.
We had already been exchanging emails back and forth many times.
I didn’t even notice the mistake until I saw the reply.
But when I read their response, something inside me tightened a little.
Without mentioning any of the actual work we had been discussing — work for which I was supposedly the one being appreciated — the only thing written in the email was:
“Even if it may be troublesome, please make sure to include your name from next time onward.”
The moment I read that sentence, I felt strangely judged.
As if I had intentionally left it out because it was too much trouble.
But that wasn’t true.
I had simply forgotten.
And what made it sting more was that there had been goodwill behind everything leading up to it.
Originally, I had only made the flyer as part of my role at the office.
But people liked it.
It caught the attention of people higher up in the organization, and suddenly something that had started within our small office became a much bigger matter.
They asked for revisions because they liked what I had made, and I responded to those requests.
Of course, maybe that is simply part of work.
But the truth is, as a part-time employee, I had been spending my own time and energy outside working hours to handle those revisions.
Somewhere in my mind, I kept telling myself, “It’s gonna be all right.”
I was trying to respond with goodwill and flexibility.
So when the only thing I received back was a correction, I think part of me reacted with resistance.
But after a while, I calmed down a little.
On my iPad, emails naturally appear connected as one conversation.
So even without a name at the end, I personally had no difficulty understanding who sent it.
But apparently, on a computer, emails can sometimes appear individually.
When I thought about it that way, I realized the other person also had a point.
In an organization, unclear communication about who sent what can lead to mistakes and risks.
So perhaps they were not trying to criticize me personally.
Perhaps they were simply communicating an operational rule.
Once I realized that, I felt myself relax a little.
But at the same time, I noticed something else.
What had truly bothered me was not the request itself.
I think I had been reacting to a discomfort I had already been feeling for some time.
For example, there was a moment recently when a nurse said:
“Bath assistance has become difficult, so could the rehabilitation team come evaluate the bathroom environment once?”
In response, the rehabilitation leader said:
“Installing handrails in the bathroom counts as remodeling.”
“Many families feel resistant to that.”
“It would be better to adjust the caregiving methods instead.”
And eventually, the discussion ended with the nurse simply continuing to manage things during care.
Objectively speaking, what the rehabilitation leader said was not wrong.
In fact, it was probably realistic advice based on experience.
Still, something about it bothered me.
Did the nurse truly mean, “I definitely want handrails installed”?
Probably not.
I think what they really meant was:
“We’re struggling, so we want someone to think together with us.”
“As professionals, we’d like your perspective and advice after actually seeing the situation.”
But before that feeling of struggle was truly received, practical opinions and general reasoning came first.
Lately, I feel myself becoming sensitive to moments like that.
The logic is correct.
The response is efficient.
And yet, something is missing before the solution arrives — an attempt to first understand the other person’s state, feelings, or background.
This email felt connected to that same discomfort.
If it had been me, how would I have said it?
And how would I have wanted someone to say it to me so that I could naturally accept the feedback and feel motivated to contribute more?
“On computers, emails sometimes appear separately, so having the sender’s name included really helps us.”
“Sorry for the trouble, but could you please include it next time?”
Maybe adding the reason behind the request, or wording it in a way that doesn’t make the other person feel blamed, changes everything.
Of course, in a busy workplace, it’s impossible to carefully choose perfect words every single time.
Still, I realized that
“communicating something correctly”
and
“communicating it in a way the other person can comfortably receive”
are actually two different skills.
And I want to become someone who values both.
For a long time now, I’ve often imagined:
“What if one day I ran my own company or service?”
That thought comes from my own painful experiences within organizations — the feeling that I never quite fit in, that I kept clashing with systems and people.
For years, I simply wanted to escape organizations altogether.
That desire is still part of why I continue trying to build a life where I can work independently.
But something has changed recently.
The organization I once wanted so desperately to escape from…
I’ve started wondering whether I could create a different kind of one myself.
A place where each individual person could shine more brightly as part of a team.
That is the kind of organization I imagine now.
Not simply an efficient workplace.
Not a place where people feel they are merely trading the precious hours of their lives for a paycheck.
I once heard Bob Proctor say something like:
“The precious hours of your life should not be exchanged for only a small reward.”
I think that’s true.
People talk about “work-life balance,”
but both work and life are still made from the same finite human time.
That’s why I want work to feel meaningful too.
Not just for myself, but for the people around me as well.
Correctness alone cannot make people feel alive at work.
But emotions alone cannot sustain an organization either.
And that is probably why, today, I wasn’t only thinking about:
“Why did this hurt me?”
I was also thinking about:
“How can both sides work together more comfortably and more fully as human beings?”
In the end, it was only a small exchange of emails.
And yes, part of me reacted emotionally at first.
But I think I learned something important today:
Mistakes often give us something in return.
I still haven’t achieved my goal of leaving corporate employment behind.
So whenever something happens at work, I sometimes feel as though it pulls me farther away from that dream.
But I don’t want to stay trapped in that feeling.
I want to believe that every experience — even uncomfortable ones — is expanding my possibilities somehow.
The version of me from the past and present.
And the version of me who may one day lead or build a team of my own.
Perhaps this current period of my life is a kind of training ground, allowing me to see through both perspectives at once.