I once walked on stage with my fly down - in front of around 800 people who noticed... I used it and moved on..

I was eighteen years old, in my second professional job playing the role of Frank in “Seven Brides for Seven Brothers”. The scene was one of transformation, as we left the stage in dirty work clothes, to return cleaned up and dressed in new clothes ready for a social barn raising event. This required a ‘quick change’. I re entered the stage boldly, standing legs wide, arms flung open to present my new look - with my fly open.

I didn’t know at first. I sat down and heard a murmur coming from the audience, a chuckle where there shouldn’t be one as the scene progressed in front of me. I cheated a look out at the audience and spotted someone pointing at me laughing while leaning over to share it with her friend.

The penny dropped. And so did my heart. I looked down and quickly looked up - the audience now focussed only on me, and laughing. You see, sure enough,  my fly was not just unzipped. Because of the tightness of the pants, they were wide open, showing my dancer’s underwear (a kind of jockstrap if you must know).

They knew. I knew. They now knew I knew they knew.

What to do? I couldn’t hide it. I couldn’t leave it. It was drawing more and more attention away from the lead actor’s scene. Not the story of transformation that was meant to be unfolding.

So I owned it. I showed my embarrassment - I really felt it so it was easy - slumped forward and head down. The lead actors were now looking to find out what was distracting the audience. I raised my hand and they stopped, bemused, then they too saw my flies undone. More laughter. I then stood and turned my back to the actors and the audience, and made it clear I was doing up my flies. I returned to my seat and gestured that the leads could continue. There was applause.

And so, in a moment of public failure, I discovered a fundamental truth: The audience wants you to win. When I owned my mistake—when I let my embarrassment show and then moved on with confidence—their laughter wasn't mocking. It was a release of tension, a shared human moment. The applause wasn't for me fixing my fly; it was for the courage to stand up, admit the flaw, and continue the show. It was a shared triumph.

That's the power of embracing your errors. We are conditioned to hide our mistakes, to pretend we are perfect, but that only creates distance and an impossible benchmark. When you accept your vulnerability, you bridge the gap between performer and audience, between speaker and listener. You stop being a spectacle on a stage and start being a fellow human.

So the next time your slide deck crashes, your voice cracks, or you forget a line, don't pretend it didn't happen. Acknowledge the flaw, own it, and keep going. The appreciation won't just be for the content of your speech; it will be for the person who had the grace and courage to be real and continue. Just like we appreciate the olympic skater who gets back up after a fall, the child who returns to their math homework after a poor mark, the actor who enters on stage flies down after a quick change, admits and uses it … accepting the error and continuing is real resilience - it’s a mark of being human.