고요한 해우소 / The Quiet Haven

When a buyer contacts us about a defect, I stop whatever I’m doing.

I read the message, but I don’t reply right away. If there are photos, I zoom in and look at them several times. I read the description again. Before I even know exactly what happened, the questions begin. How many products are affected? Are the other products from the same period all right? Do we need to check the ones that have already been shipped?

I tell the buyer that I’ll look into it. Sending that short reply is the easy part. Then the work of finding an answer begins.

We have to find out where the problem started. Was something wrong from the beginning? Was it missed during production? Should we have caught it in the final check? I ask the people involved what they remember and examine the products we still have. When I’m anxious, it can be tempting to look for someone to blame first. But that can get in the way of finding the actual cause.

Finding the cause isn’t the end of it, either. We have to decide what to do with the products we have, how far to check the ones already shipped, and what to tell the buyer and when. Then we need to change our process or our checks so the same thing doesn’t happen again.

That’s when the questions keep piling up in my mind. Is this response enough? Have we missed anything? Will the buyer accept our explanation? Can the team actually keep following the new process after today?

Sometimes my employees and I disagree about what to do. The people doing the work know what’s possible on the floor and how much time it will take. I listen to them, but I’m also thinking about the answer I owe the buyer and what will happen if the problem occurs again. We’re looking at the same issue from different places, so of course we don’t always agree.

That’s what makes the decision difficult. Sometimes I hear everyone out and still choose the direction I first had in mind. Other times, I let go of my own idea because someone on the team has a better one. Either way, I’m the one who has to make the final call. I may not know whether it was the right one until later.

It’s easy to say, “You’re the owner, so just decide.” I may have thought that way myself once. But standing in that position, I’ve learned that choosing an option is only part of it. Living with what follows is the heavier part.

If the buyer isn’t satisfied, I have to explain again. If our response isn’t enough, we have to do more. If the team is struggling, I have to tell them why the work matters. And if my decision has made things harder, I have to acknowledge that too.

Running a small company doesn’t mean I know all the answers. I get caught off guard by these messages. I listen to different opinions and still find it hard to tell what’s best. There are days when I let my worry come out in my voice and regret it afterward.

Those are the days when being in charge feels especially heavy. I can share the work, but I can’t hand over the final responsibility.

So I return to what I can do. I can face the problem. I can check the facts, listen to the people involved, and make the cause and the next steps clear. I can make a decision with what we know now, then correct what we learn we got wrong.

Not everything was resolved today. There are still things to check, and I’m waiting to hear back from the buyer. But writing down the next steps has settled my mind a little.

The next time a message like this comes, I’ll probably worry just as much. I don’t think these moments become easy simply because I’ve been doing this job for a while. I’m learning to feel the weight of it and make the decision anyway.

What would you do in my position?

A buyer has reported a problem. You need to find the cause and keep it from happening again, but the people you work with see the next steps differently. What would you check first, and how would you decide which way to go?

I’m still figuring that out each time it happens. If you’ve been in a similar position, I’d like to hear your story.

— The Writer