Mother and daughter team Barbara and Shannon Kelley write a fun and opinionated blog called 'Undecided' in which they discuss challenges specific to women in business.

One point keeps nagging me, far in the back of my mind. Today's post, about Supreme Court Justice Sonia Sotomayor, nailed down what's been niggling.

The Kelleys say "For generations, men’s roles have been predetermined, and unquestioned" and comment on the challenges of a woman who's trying to find the balance of being herself while fitting into what was, until fairly recently, a man's role.

Here's the thing: I've been doing that my whole life. Well, switch the roles, but in a lot of ways, I've never been fully comfortable with what the stereotypical man is supposedly like. I couldn't care less about sports. I'm much more interested in talking to a woman than staring at one. (I'm generally more interested in talking to a woman than to a man, too.)

My business model has always been focused on relationships, communication, emotional connections. I do not 'close' sales. I don't go for the jugular in business deals. I tend far more toward kind and gentle than sharp and assertive.

I deeply appreciate the struggle women have had to achieve anything near equality in a seriously unfair world. I know, a little, how it feels.

It's bound to happen. We're only human and we all make mistakes. We try very hard in our businesses to put processes in place so that we don't make mistakes. But it happens. So what do you do when it happens?

Here's my opportunity to be authentic and admit that recently we made a mistake on a client project. Of course it was completely unintentional and accidental. Upon review we still don't even know how it could have happened. But it did. Our client brought it to our attention in a very kind manner. He knew it was accidental and unintentional. Though the mistake couldn't actually be fixed, he expected us to offer some sort of compensation for the error. And we completely agreed!

We were mortified that a mistake had been made! This client is one of our favorite clients. We really enjoy working with him and we weren't sure if this was going to be the end of our working relationship. We needed now to make sure we lived up to our customer service superheroes policy. So we discussed exactly what we could offer this client to make amends for this mistake. We wanted to be sure that what we offered far exceeded any expectations he had.

We called our client and apologized for the mistake, no excuses. Then we proceeded to explain what we could do to make amends. We made a generous offer of additional time at no charge and offered to take on a project we knew he needed done at no charge. We wanted to make sure our client felt well taken care of and hoped he'd continue working with us.

Our client was very happy with our offer of additional work at no charge! He explained that he'd wondered how we would handle the situation. He realizes that mistakes happen and that it's the way they are handled that makes all the difference. He was very excited to continue working with us and had a project we could start on immediately. He was so impressed with the results of that project that he offered to write a testimonial if he hadn't already (he already had though).  We continue to work together and our client continues to refer others to us.

Yes, we will make mistakes. It's how we handle them that determines the outcome. So here's my 3 simple rules on how to handle mistakes:

1. Own up to your mistakes. Take responsibility for what you did. Don't make excuses. Figure out how the mistake was made, if at all possible, and then put into place processes to prevent that mistake from happening again.

2. Apologize. Give your client a sincere apology, without excuses, for what happened. If you used a sub-contractor and the error was made by your sub-contractor, you still need to take responsiblilty.

3. Make generous amends. This does not have to be monetary. It can be additional time or product. Be sure your client feels they got more than enough compensation. If the error resulted in a $500 loss for your client, make amends of double that value.

When you own up to your mistakes, apologize, and make generous amends, you'll find that your clients appreciate your openness, honesty and integrity.

For much of my life, I was an introverted cynical loner. No, really. I spent as much time alone as possible. I took entire vacations alone. My favorite activity was reading, alone, in my room.

Fast forward 30 years.

Since the turn of the millennium, I've changed. I'm not sure when it started.

But I know why.

Some things only grow when you believe they will. Faith. Trust. Until you extend them, and see the good, you won't have them. Live as if.

I've trusted some people, and they've given me back the love of people I know I had as a child.

Too many to name, but I'll give it a shot. Folks like Tom, Jerry, Marcos, Anne, Bernadette, Jodi, Jule, Chris, Mary Louise, Megan, Paul, Bolaji, Conor, Greg, Bill, Ed, John, Bonnie, Rex, Brendan, Becky, Bernd, Rick, and, well, y'know, the three I forgot.

It was not easy for me to trust my thoughts and feelings to a group of strangers. I've tried, in the past, and it was too ugly, too often. Not this time.

I love these people. They aren't acquaintances or associates. They're my tribe.

They're friends.

It's nice that businesses are grasping the concept of less stick, more carrot. Of course, if the person you're rewarding is a carnivore, they're not going to see the carrot as recognition; they're going to see it as yet more evidence that you don't know them, or don't care about them.

I had an employer who, to reward me for my efforts, announced at a company meeting that he was buying me a car. Impressive, eh?

Well, sort of.

What they did was picked out a vehicle, let me register it in my name, and made the monthly payment. Nice vehicle, but it was red. Without a doubt my least favorite car color. Honestly, I would prefer little-girl pink to red. Oh; and when I quit the job about a year later, I took over the payment, of course. So, in reality, it was a $200/month raise, not a new car.

Now, it wasn't a total wash. I did need a more dependable vehicle, and it was a small truck, like I already drove.

But it wasn't the recognition I wanted. What I wanted was, well, recognition. Sincere notice for my ingenuity and willingness to get the job done. What I got was a public announcement which made the boss look like a hero, and made it critical that I act enormously grateful since I'd obviously been rewarded beyond what I deserved. Nobody else knew that they hadn't paid cash and handed me the pink slip, which is the clear impression I got when the announcement was made. (See my article on how nobody likes surprises . . . )

A little discreet inquiry would have uncovered the fact that what I really needed was a few bucks to fix up the old truck I loved, and what I really wanted was appreciation.

Some time back we had a houseful of friends over to play music, eat, drink, and talk. Now, in this context, when I say 'friends' I don't mean 'other human beings who happen to fall within my sphere of attention.' I mean people I'd trust to babysit my little girl. Friends.

All but one.

Two of the younger friends made a bad judgment call and invited someone who wasn't my friend; who, in fact, was barely known to them. But my trust in them extended, initially, to this other person.

Cut to James, the oldest offspring living at home, coming home from the bank with a wallet full of money he'd taken out to buy a motorcycle later that day. Fortunately he took all the hundred-dollar bills out to put somewhere safe, leaving only $16 in his wallet on the desk in our home office. Yes, right there in the open, because these folks are friends.

Later in the day, the three young folks went out to pick something up from the store. While they were gone, James noticed that his wallet wasn't where he left it. Neither was the money; the wallet was empty.

In a house full of people I'd trust with my life, plus one total stranger, the thief stuck out like a sore thumb. He didn't admit it, but he also didn't act very indignant when I called him a slimy thief in front of his friends (who were appropriately shocked and apologetic about the whole thing.)

Which brings us to the fairly unselfish and giving nature of the Twitterverse.

It still surprises me that folks will re-Tweet something just because you ask. If you're fairly polite and generally unselfish, other Twitterers respond in kind. Twitter is taking on an aura of unselfishness I intend to encourage.

So, then, when someone behaves selfishly, sending a dozen tweets in a minute yelling at you to buy their life-saving business service, they, too, stand out like a sore thumb.

Tweet responsibly. Hey, how about being unselfish and kind in all your social networking? Imagine, in a very "Alice's Restaurant" way, if nearly all of us used social networking to create a kinder, gentler form of business? Perhaps those selfish sore-thumb thieves would go away and leave us alone.

It's worth a try.

(i) Megan Elizabeth Morris, that idea blueprint girl (@worldmegan in the Twitterverse) who showed today, once again, her massive unselfishness with ideas.