Right, settle in. We’ve all been there, haven’t we? That moment you try to be incredibly helpful and, instead, you look like a prize pilchard. I’m talking about my latest spectacular self-sabotage, an act of sheer, well-meaning idiocy involving one of my brilliant clients.

My Helpful Default Mode

For those who don’t know, my two birth-children are technically adults now. They are both brilliantly capable, but they still manage to drive me insane and do spectacularly stupid things. They are also severely dyslexic. I’ve lived the struggle, and I know that sometimes, a great, big wall of text is the absolute worst. A quick voice note? Brilliant. A chat? Even better. It’s my default setting for communicating anything important to them.

So, when a client mentioned they were dyslexic a while back, my brain, in its infinite wisdom, thought, “Right, Connie, jump in! I know the score here – I’ll head off that text problem right now.” I started leaving voice notes and keeping my texts punchy. Everything was going swimmingly – little things that make a huge difference, right?

Then came the Big Important Document. Loads of crucial info that needed to be crystal clear. I picked up the phone, prepped for my moment of proactive genius, and spectacularly dropped the clanger.

I asked him, bless his cotton socks, “How do you want this information? I really don’t want to send you a wall of text!”

The sound of my own foot going straight into my mouth was deafening.

---

I meant to offer options – a chat, a different format – but what he heard, I suspect, was me making a massive, clumsy deal out of his dyslexia. Like it’s a terrifying, rare affliction I had to tiptoe around. The tone… well, I’m pretty sure I could hear his internal eye-roll over the phone. I think I might have slightly embarrassed or, worse, annoyed him.

Note to Self, and to anyone reading: Wind ya neck in, Connie. Just send the damn document first. Follow up with a simple, “I know that’s a lot of text. Would you prefer a quick chat to run through it, or for me to send you an audio summary?”

Don’t ask the equivalent of, “Oh my god, can you even read this? How shall I proceed with your enormous limitation?”

It’s the little things. And sometimes, the “little thing” is just not being a patronising numpty. I failed. Spectaculary. A full-marks fail on the “Art of Stupidity” exam.

---

Question for You:

Have you ever tried to be mega-helpful and ended up putting your foot in it so badly it became an instant core memory? Share your ‘helpful fail’ in the comments!

---

P.S. A Note of Relief from a Self-Confessed Prat

P.S. Want to know what happened next? I sent my client a quick WhatsApp message apologising for being an absolute prat. Honestly, he is an absolute gentleman and a legend. I received a brilliant voice note back saying I was never to apologise again and that he hadn’t been offended in the slightest. His quick response instantly restored my faith in humanity (and myself!). Crisis totally averted, but lesson learned forever!