The Devil Is in the Details

If you wanted to push my buttons, this is one sure way to do it.

I consider myself an extremely detail-oriented person, and anyone I’ve ever worked with would corroborate that.

I am not detail-oriented in all things, but I am unfailingly anal when it comes to:

• Planning project timelines: Buffer periods for all eventualities, meetings with every relevant stakeholder accounted for (including time to revise post-meeting), etc.

• Making appointments: “I will be in front of exit X at Y:00pm.”

• Giving instructions: Everything needs to be self-explanatory, a step-by-step guide that any literate person can understand and follow.

• Writing: Typos and unintentional grammatical mistakes are a no-no.¹

• Translating: Every little detail needs to be translated, the spirit of the original text preserved in whole or localized to the target context.

There are probably other things I’m particular about, but the above are the main ones.

Which is why it pisses me off to no end when other people don’t show an acceptable level of orientation to detail when it comes to the above arenas. I don’t expect the same level of attention that I accord these activities, but there is a minimum level that I consider acceptable.

And when this minimum level is not met, I almost (okay, always) consider it a personal affront. The devil in me rears its ugly little head and highlights all the details blatantly missed, brandishing them tauntingly before my eyes, lighting the internal flame of fury that can burn down whole neighbourhoods.

I realise it is completely irrational to expect others to behave in a certain way, and that people vary widely in their natural attention to detail. But the devil in me can’t help getting fired up over it every single time: I’ve put so much effort into doing something, yet to have it fall apart by the [insert derogatory term of choice] I happen to be dealing with.

I’m especially enraged when it comes to professional matters. My Details Devil is much easier to placate when it spots failings in the personal sphere. Everyone has limited attention and I find it perfectly normal for someone to let the ball drop from time to time.

But if it’s for work, or if you’re interacting with me in a professional capacity, then the devil in me combusts and burns down entire villages. I almost need a time-out where I cool down and collect myself, lest I explode and launch into a tirade (a bit like I’m doing now).

And this devil doesn’t only look outwards. Oh no.

It is as merciless, if not more, when the culprit is me. Whenever I miss details in my work—a missed typo when proofreading an article, an incomplete translation when working on subtitles, a forgotten attachment when sending homework to my student—my ferocious Details Devil directs all its rage at me and I spiral into an obnoxious cycle of frustration and anxiety: How could I have missed that? You careless little… (You get the idea.)

Having written all this to process my thoughts (I’m fresh off a careless incident which triggered my Details Devil, who’s currently seething in my head), I guess my point is: I do know I can’t expect others to act in any way I wish. And it’s really my problem to learn how to co-exist with this Details Devil and tame him/her/it/them.

This attention to detail is both my biggest strength and greatest weakness. It makes me do my job extremely well, but also leaves me a nervous wreck when I miss one tiny thing… or a raging bull when someone else does.

It’s really no fun. It’s something I’ve got to work on.

But while I’m still a work-in-progress, now you know what to do if you really want to push my buttons.

How about you? Is your devil also in the details? Or are you the type for whom I’d burn down entire villages?

Until next Friday… Stay cool, stay safe, stay thoughtful,

Val

1. This is where I shamefully admit that I committed the grave crime of misspelling “moisturise” in an email a few weeks back. As soon as the email went out, it was pointed out to me by several well-wishers that “moisterise” is not a word. Oops.