The Power of a Real Apology at Work  

When was the last time you heard or offered an apology?  Not a quick “sorry” as you squeeze into an already full elevator, but a carefully considered, full-on apology?  A well-considered, well-timed apology can be a powerful thing.  Done badly, though, an apology can backfire.  What is the right way to apologize?

There Is No Such Word as “Sorrybut.” 

This fact doesn’t prevent people from using it (any more than it prevents people from saying “you guys” to groups of skirt-suited women), but we need to be clear about exactly why “sorrybut” is such a problem.

• “Are your feelings hurt?  I’m sorrybut you did ask what I thought of your dress.”
• “I’m sorrybut that’s how I feel.”
• “I’m sorrybut you’ve done worse, you know.”
• “I’m sorrybut I didn’t know you’d be offended.”

“Sorrybut” puts the responsibility for the hurt back on the person who is hurt.  “Sorrybut” is a “non-apology” apology, because it looks a little like an apology, but ultimately is the exact opposite. While that methodology continues in some communities, professions, and nations, I have learned that other, better approaches are available.

What Makes a Real Apology Real?

I was a mother and an attorney by the time I had the first major breakthrough on my Apology Theory. Any parent in the world knows that toddlers and small children have unerring instincts for which buttons to push when a parent is nearing the farthest reaches of his or her own civilization and is close to going truly insane.  I was exhausted, hungry, lonely and suspicious of my own child-rearing abilities, at the end of my civilized human tether, when my small person flushed her new hair ribbon down the toilet as I reached for it to apply to her head.  I shouted an obscenity beginning with the letter “f” at my beloved daughter.  Her little face, horrified and terrified, haunts me still.

As a non-sociopath, I immediately felt awful, even as the turbulent anger and frustration still swirled through my body.  This was a moment of crystal clarity for me:  I had to apologize to her, and I had to be real about it.  I had screwed up badly, and I felt terrible.  Now here’s the heart of the revelation I had:  I owed her an apology, not a “sorrybut.”

“I’m sorrybut you were making me crazy” is not an apology; it is (at best) a lame explanation.  It puts the burden on the person to whom the fake apology is directed to understand that it was somehow his or her fault that you acted badly.  Who needs that?  It certainly was not appropriate for a sensitive little girl, whose sleep-deprived mother just shouted an extremely objectionable word in her face.  I paused, I thought, I chose my words carefully, and eventually I said, “I am very sorry that I yelled at you and that I used bad language.  There is no excuse for getting that upset about a hair ribbon when you are so much more important to me.  I will try very hard not to do anything like that again.” She hugged me (which made me feel like a certified ogre) and told me we would be okay.  She has grown into a thoughtful, caring adult, and she has a much better handle on real apologies than I do.

I continued to think about apologies.  What did my children need to see me do with them, with their father, and with others in order to understand what an apology really is and what an apology really can accomplish?  What did my co-workers, my clients, and others in the business world deserve from me?

Let’s be clear:  I am not talking about perpetual self-abnegation.  I am talking about a mature, rational evaluation of one’s own behavior and, when that behavior is below standard, a calm and sincere acceptance of responsibility for it.  In the process of learning how to do this, I also learned something surprising:  Apologies can be hugely powerful.

The Strategic and Sincere Apology

At around that same time, I was litigating a complex civil lawsuit involving multiple expert witnesses in several different disciplines.  I have discovered over the years that the eccentricities and foibles of expert witnesses bear an almost perfect inverse relationship to their importance to the particular case:  The witnesses with the smallest piece to add are almost always the most troublesome.  This particular case was no exception.  I had one witness whose expert report was a small but essential brick in the wall of proof I was building, and I was having trouble with the scheduling – getting his draft report from his assistant, scheduling the discussion of the other side’s report, and then scheduling his deposition.  In what was for me the final straw, he called and yelled at my secretary for the scheduling snafus, which, in fact, were largely the result of his own conduct.

I debated a number of courses, but ultimately I called him and apologized for the scheduling problems.  I told him that the ultimate responsibility for the project was mine, so I wanted to apologize to him for his inconvenience and make sure that he felt ready to go forward.  I said I had no particular excuse to offer; I just wanted him to know that I was sorry.

He was flummoxed.  He tried to reject my apology (“Well, it wasn’t really your fault,”), but I disagreed, pointing out that the overall management of the project was my responsibility, so any inconvenience or problems along the way were my responsibility, as well.  Ultimately, he accepted my apology, and said (weirdly, I thought at the time), “I am really impressed.  It takes a big person to apologize like that.”

All that was necessary, it seemed to me, was a willingness to take the same level of responsibility for things going poorly as for things going well – a reasonable mathematical equation, I thought.  If I can pat myself on the back for things going well, I should be able to whack myself over the head when things don’t go well.  Fair’s fair, I thought.  However, this episode also taught me that my view is not universally shared.  Many people – many powerful people – do not accept responsibility when their actions do not lead to stellar results.  They push responsibility away, frequently down the chain of command.  What I learned in that situation is that the acceptance of such responsibility is an entirely different and equally effective way to exercise power.  If I can show you that I do not feel demeaned or embarrassed when I accept responsibility for my actions, then perhaps I have enough internal power that I don’t need to push negative consequences so far away from myself.

A Sincere Apology Makes a Difference

Fair warning:  not everybody will respond positively to an apology, but it can be vastly disarming in surprising situations.  The choice to apologize can be powerful in many situations, not just in the office.  With a roommate (“I am sorry that I forgot to wash my dishes last night.  That was inconsiderate of me.  I will wash them right now.”), with a friend (“I am sorry that I laughed at what Larry said about your nose.  It was a rude and hurtful thing to say, and I should not have laughed.”), or with any other person in your life to whom you wish to show both your respect and your strength, a sincere apology makes a difference.