Pulling a Lizz

Our organization holds an annual leadership conference culminating with a highly anticipated awards dinner. However, the awards given out to the recipients have been a source of concern for many attendees, including myself. The plaques looked outdated, reminiscent of the 1970s, and although people were happy to be recognized, they never seemed too excited about the actual awards.

This year, I had the privilege of being in charge of the dinner and was determined to make it unforgettable. I meticulously designed each award and eagerly waited for the proofs, knowing that they would bring a new level of excitement to our awards night. I put the recipients' names on each award to envision how each would look, and I was confident that this would add a special touch to our awards night.

Then the email arrived with all of the award proofs attached!

As I have shared in the past, my company has a phrase I despise, "pulling a Lizz." It was used to describe an embarrassing or unpleasant event in which the person involved was forgetful or made a major error in judgment. Unfortunately, my many faux pas were the reason this phrase came about.

My sixty seconds of regret.

In my excitement, I made a grave error. My pride in what I had produced got the better of me, resulting in a corporate faux pas that has been told and retold years later. I deeply regret this and understand the impact it could have had.

I reviewed each award carefully, ensuring that every name and word was spelled correctly and that the correct award was designated to the correct person. However, I made a grave mistake.

"Yes, these are perfect, and the board is going to love them," I typed the email and entered the group name. I was ready for the accolades that would surely come my way. "Lizz, these are beautiful. Why didn’t we think of this before? We will shine this year, and the surprise of getting the award will only be matched by the award itself." I could not wait for all the praise to come my way for a change.

I had saved each award in a folder labeled "Leadership Conference." I pulled each one from the file and attached it to the group email labeled "Newport Board Members." Then, I proudly clicked 'send.' After sending the email, I went to my sent emails to look at my masterpiece again, and that's when I saw it!

The 'To' section of the email read 'Newport General Managers' instead of 'Newport Board Members.' I had sent the email to the wrong group of people. I sent it to those who were not supposed to know who had won the awards until the night of the Awards Dinner.

I was overcome with panic. I had ruined my boss's big night, one he looked forward to all year. I felt physically ill, and every nerve in my body hurt. Once an email is sent, people will see it even if it's recalled. I had to do something, and I had to do it fast.

In a stroke of genius, I sent another email to Newport General Managers stating, "Alert! Do not open the previous email with the subject 'Awards.' I have inadvertently opened and forwarded a computer virus that will crash your hard drive. DO NOT OPEN!"

It was a risky move, but it worked. I prevented the wrong people from seeing the awards before the ceremony. However, that day, I learned a valuable lesson: always double-check the recipient list before sending out important emails, and don't think too highly of yourself in the process.

One particular General Manager still swears to this day that I crashed his hard drive. Sure I did.