You hear that phrase all the time, right? “I never lose, I win or learn.” Sounds pretty good, something you’d see on a coffee mug or a cheesy office poster. For a long time, I just sort of nodded along whenever I heard it, didn’t give it much real thought. It’s easy to say, harder to actually live by, especially when you’re in the middle of what feels like a big, fat loss.
But then, I had this little adventure in my garage, of all places, that kind of hammered it home for me. Nothing world-shattering, just me trying to be handy.
My Brilliant Plan to Build a Bookshelf (and How It Almost Defeated Me)
So, there I was, scrolling online, and I saw this design for a cool, rustic-looking bookshelf. “Hey,” I thought to myself, “I can do that!” Famous last words. I’ve dabbled in little fixes here and there, but a full-on build? This was new territory. I headed out, grabbed some wood, a few screws, feeling all confident. I even remembered that old saying, “measure twice, cut once.” Thought I was all set.
Well, I started measuring and cutting. My first clue things were going sideways should have been my first cut. It wasn’t exactly… straight. More like a gentle, meandering curve. I blamed the cheap handsaw I was using. But then the second cut wasn’t much better. I pushed on, thinking, “It’s rustic! It’ll have character!”
Then came the assembly. Pieces weren’t lining up. Screws were going in crooked. The whole thing was wobbly and looked like it was designed by someone who’d only ever seen a shelf in a blurry photograph. I got so frustrated. I mean, I was genuinely angry at these inanimate pieces of wood. I actually kicked one of the planks. Yeah, real mature. My first instinct was to just toss the whole mess into the trash, chalk it up as a bad job, and go buy a bookshelf like a normal person.
I stomped inside, made a cup of tea, and just fumed for a bit. And then, that silly phrase popped back into my head: “win or learn.” Okay, universe, I get it. Winning was clearly off the table at this point. So, what was there to learn from this pile of splintered ambition?
I forced myself to actually think about it. Here’s what I came up with from that first disaster:
- Using the cheapest tool for a job you’ve never done before is asking for trouble.
- Those quick, 2-minute DIY videos? They leave out a LOT of important details.
- “Rustic character” can’t save something that’s structurally unsound.
- Getting angry at wood doesn’t make it straighter. Shocking, I know.
So, the next day, I didn’t throw it all out. I took a deep breath. I went back and looked at what I’d done. I unwound the whole sorry mess. I practiced on some scrap pieces, focusing on just making a straight cut, no matter how long it took. I watched longer, more detailed videos – the boring ones, the ones where they explain every little thing. I re-measured everything, super carefully this time. It was slow. It was tedious.
The second attempt? Still not something you’d see in a fancy furniture store. It had its quirks. But you know what? It stood up straight. It was solid. It actually held books without threatening to collapse. And more importantly, I’d actually figured something out. I’d faced the failure, picked it apart, and changed my approach.
That, for me, was the real “win.” Not the slightly lopsided bookshelf, but the understanding that the “learn” part of that saying isn’t passive. You don’t just magically absorb lessons when you fail. You have to actively dig for them. You have to be willing to admit you messed up, figure out why, and then actually try differently next time. It’s work.
It’s funny, because this whole bookshelf saga made me think about so many other times I’ve just written something off as a “loss.” A project at work that didn’t go as planned, a conversation that went sour. It’s easy to just move on and try to forget. But if you don’t stop and do that little post-mortem, that little “what can I learn here?” moment, you’re probably doomed to repeat the same mistakes. And honestly, who has time for that?
So yeah, “I never lose, I win or learn.” It’s still a bit of a mouthful, still sounds like a motivational poster. But now, when I hear it, I think about that wobbly bookshelf and the frustration, and then the small, satisfying feeling of actually figuring it out. The learning part isn’t always fun, but it’s definitely where the good stuff happens.
