When the Machine Says FAIL

There is a particular kind of frustration that comes from fixing something, watching it work beautifully, believing you have finally solved the problem—and then seeing the word FAIL appear on the screen again.

That has been my relationship with our Meheen bottling line for the past two weeks.

We have been preparing for the release of Aurelian Reserve, a beer that means a great deal to me and to the story of Lickinghole Creek. Bringing Aurelian back is part of something larger: resurrecting our barrel-aged program and rebuilding pieces of this brewery that I wasn't willing to let disappear.

Farris and I knew that wouldn't be easy. We just didn't anticipate quite how determined an old bottling machine would be to test that resolve.

Over the past two weeks, we have fixed one problem after another. We troubleshoot. We find the malfunction. We order or locate the part. We replace it. The machine runs beautifully.

We breathe.

Then something else fails.

Three times now, we have gone through essentially that same cycle—and three times it has been a completely different piece of equipment.

This morning, while a part was literally being driven to the brewery in hopes that we could still bottle Aurelian in time for today's promised release, I found myself looking at that machine and thinking about resilience.

There are moments in life and in business that begin to feel a little like the ordeals of Job. Not because any one thing is catastrophic, but because they just keep coming.

You solve one problem and another appears.

You make a plan and something changes it.

You get knocked down, get back up, dust yourself off—and before you've quite regained your balance, here comes the next thing.

At some point, frustration stops being useful.

You can get angry at the machine. You can ask why this is happening again. You can spend your energy thinking about how unfair the timing is or how much easier this should have been.

Or you can look at the screen that says FAIL and ask:

Okay. What failed? What do we do next?

That doesn't mean pretending everything is fine.

I am disappointed that I had to delay today's Aurelian bottle release. I made a promise to our customers, and keeping my word matters deeply to me. Farris and I worked right down to the wire trying to make that happen.

But there is also a point where determination has to be accompanied by judgment.

Aurelian has spent years getting here. I'm not going to compromise the beer or rush the final step simply because the clock says we should.

So today, Aurelian Reserve is on tap.

The bottles will come.

And the Meheen will run again.

In fact, by the time we finish replacing everything that has decided to fail over these past couple of weeks, I'm fairly certain our old girl will essentially be a new machine.

There is something strangely fitting about that.

We are rebuilding a barrel program. We are rebuilding equipment. In many ways, we are rebuilding a brewery.

And rebuilding rarely happens in a straight line.

Maybe resilience isn't about being endlessly positive or never getting frustrated. Maybe it's simply refusing to let frustration make the next decision for you.

You diagnose the problem.

You find the part.

You call the person who might know something you don't.

You try again.

And when the screen says FAIL, you don't confuse that with finished.

You keep going.

To everyone who purchased Aurelian and has been patient with us today: thank you. Truly. Your understanding means more than you probably realize.

And if you happen to be a brilliant Meheen bottling-machine wizard, I would still very much like to meet you.

— Lisa

Aurelian Reserve. Worth preserving.