Inspired by “Systems Break, People Err, and Life Carries On” from Can I Speak to a Real Person?
There are moments in customer service when an error appears that is so odd, so unexpected, or so wildly misaligned with any known process that all you can do is laugh. Not the unkind sort of laugh, but the kind that arrives when life reminds you that systems are alive, humans are inventive, and perfection is a fantasy that refuses to exist anywhere other than a slide deck.
In my book Can I Speak to a Real Person?, I explore this idea in the chapter that examines how we interpret errors. We often treat them as moral failures or personal slights. We believe that mistakes should not happen, and when they do, that someone, somewhere, must have been careless. Yet errors are not moral events. They are structural ones. They reveal the truth about the system that produced them. They show us how humans naturally behave inside the boundaries we design. And sometimes, they show us something so unexpected that the only reasonable response is a deep breath and a sense of humour.
Errors Are Not Personal, They Are Informational
One of the hardest shifts to make, both as a customer and as a service professional, is recognising that mistakes are not insults. They are data. Every delay, every misroute, every duplicated form, and every accidental double-click is telling a story about how people actually interact with a process, not how we imagine they will. When I wrote, “Every error tells the truth about the system that produced it,” I meant it quite literally. Errors expose bottlenecks, assumptions, and areas where design has not kept up with reality.
When we treat mistakes as personal offences, we lose the opportunity to understand what the system is trying to tell us. We rush to blame, and in doing so, we silence information that could have improved the experience for everyone involved.
Humans Are Predictably Unpredictable
If you work with humans, then you work with surprises. Humans interpret instructions differently. They find creative routes through systems. They make choices that no designer could have predicted. They forget steps, improvise steps, and occasionally invent entirely new ones. This is not a flaw in human nature. It is human nature. When organisations attempt to engineer behaviour into perfect predictability, they discover quickly that people do not operate on blueprints.
This is why the idea of perfection in service is not only unrealistic, but fundamentally incompatible with how people behave. Systems must adapt to humans, not the other way around. When errors occur, they remind us that we are designing for living, thinking, imaginative beings, not machines.
Mistakes Are Evidence of Movement
A static system has no errors. It also has no customers. No activity. No life. Mistakes happen in systems that are active, evolving, and used by real people with real pressures. During busy seasons like PEAK, these mistakes become more visible, not because people are performing worse, but because the volume reveals every structural weakness at once.
A mistake is often the first sign that a process has reached its limit. It is a signal that the system needs reinforcement or redesign. It is not a punishment. It is an alert.
The Gap Between Expectation and Reality
Many customer frustrations come from the belief that systems should operate flawlessly. We live in a world that has normalised instant resolution, perfect accuracy, and seamless digital flow. Yet behind every “seamless experience” sits a complex web of humans, tools, checks, and judgement calls. When something misfires, the disappointment is not always logical. It is emotional. People respond not only to the error itself, but to the loss of the expectation they carried.
Companies often create these expectations without fully realising it. Promises of perfection condition customers to believe that “mistake-free” is a reasonable standard. When something does go wrong, the gap between expectation and reality feels wider than the event itself.
Grace, Curiosity, and a Sense of Humour
To work in customer service is to develop a subtle skill set that blends grace, curiosity, and occasional laughter. The grace to recognise that things will go wrong. The curiosity to understand what the error is showing us. And the humour to accept that some mistakes defy logic altogether.
There are errors that reveal a gap in process. There are errors that reveal a gap in training. And there are errors that reveal a gap in human patience. Each one is a clue, not a condemnation.
A Better Way to Think About Mistakes
In the book, I encourage readers to reframe the way they interpret errors. Instead of seeing them as failures, see them as diagnostic clues. Instead of demanding moral perfection from systems, demand clarity. Instead of becoming outraged at the existence of mistakes, become curious about what they are telling you. This shift does not remove the need for accountability, but it places accountability in the right place: the system, not the individual human trying to navigate it.
When customers and companies adopt this mindset, the tone of problem-solving changes. Conversations become more collaborative. Blame becomes less relevant. Solutions become more meaningful because they address root causes rather than surface frustrations.
The Gentle Wisdom of Imperfection
Perhaps the most honest truth is this: systems break, people err, and life carries on. When we accept this, we create space for clearer thinking, calmer responses, and smarter design. Perfection is not the goal. Improvement is. And improvement begins with paying attention to the small, strange, and sometimes amusing ways a system shows us what it needs.
Mistakes are not the enemy. They are the teacher. And occasionally, they are the comic relief that reminds us we are all human, trying to navigate complexity with the information we have and the time we are given.
This is the gentle wisdom at the heart of Can I Speak to a Real Person?: not that we should strive for flawless service, but that we should build systems capable of learning from their imperfections. When we embrace the comedy of errors, we open the door to better design, better conversations, and better understanding.