I’ll admit it—I’m a Type A personality. For most of my life, perfection wasn’t just a goal; it was the bare minimum.
As a student, I pushed myself hard. Every test had to be aced. Every project had to be flawless. Whether it was sports, competitions, or school leadership, I strove to go above and beyond. And I carried that same standard with me into adulthood—into parenting, marriage, and business.
In many ways, it served me well. That drive gave me a strong foundation. It helped me dream big, build businesses, and stay disciplined.
But here’s the part I’ve come to reflect on more deeply: the cost of chasing perfection.
Over time, I realized that my intolerance for mediocrity didn’t just create pressure for me—it created pressure for those around me. I expected the same level of intensity, precision, and passion from everyone else. At work, if the output wasn’t up to my expectations, I’d feel disappointed, frustrated, even snap at times. At home, my kids quickly learned that “average” wasn’t going to cut it with Mom. And while high standards can motivate, they can also intimidate.
Eventually, I had to face a hard truth: Perfection is not always productive.
I’ve since learned to reframe my mindset—from “Is this perfect?” to “Are we making progress?” Because progress, unlike perfection, is sustainable. It allows room for iteration, learning, and most importantly—grace.
In the staffing and recruiting world, this is especially relevant. A perfect hire may not exist, but a great one can be trained and nurtured. A perfect process may never arrive, but an evolving one creates momentum. Even in leadership, perfection can make us rigid, but progress makes us adaptable.
We still aim high. But we also leave room for being human.
So whether you’re leading a team, raising a family, or navigating your own goals, I leave you with this thought as you sip your Monday morning coffee:
Progress is the quieter, stronger cousin of perfection. It sticks around when perfection burns out.
Keep going. Keep showing up. And let that be enough—for now.