An error doesn't become a mistake until you refuse to correct it.

The moment that makes all the difference

We all mess up constantly—it's part of being human and trying anything worthwhile. The real distinction Battista points to is that stumbling isn't the problem. What matters is what happens next, in that moment when you realize something went wrong. Do you acknowledge it and adjust, or do you double down and pretend it didn't happen?

This shows up everywhere in modern life. A parent yells at their kid over something small, then has the chance to apologize and explain—or doesn't. Someone sends a careless email, sees the mistake immediately, and corrects it—or leaves it out there. A business launches a feature customers hate, listens to feedback, and pivots—or insists they were right all along. The error itself is almost neutral. It's the refusal to course-correct that transforms it into something harder to recover from: a mistake that defines you.

The counterintuitive part is that admitting error quickly often builds more trust than never making one in the first place. People respect someone who notices they're wrong and does something about it far more than they respect someone frantically defending an indefensible position. Correctability is actually a strength, not a weakness.