The 250 Square Foot View

Most of us can recall a handful of expressions our parents repeated to us throughout our childhoods. Things like, “I’ll turn this car right around if you don’t behave!” or “I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed.” I’ve written a lot about my mom on this blog, most recently in “Camp” (which received some really positive feedback–not so much for my writing but for my mom’s mad parenting skillz). There was one saying my mom used to use that stuck with me more than some of the others. If my brother or I screwed up and tried to apologize, hoping those magic words would automatically erase whatever mistake I made, she’d tell us, sorry means nothing.

I know what you’re thinking–that’s a pretty harsh thing to say to a kid. But I spent many years reflecting on and ultimately understanding that expression, and I assure you its meaning is more profound than it sounds. Rather than letting my us get away scot-free with bad behavior just by thoughtlessly apologizing and going back outside to play, my mom was trying to make us hold ourselves accountable. The words that make up an apology truly mean nothing unless you don’t repeat–or at least make a real effort not to repeat–the sort of behavior that has you apologizing in the first place.

The worst on the spectrum of meaningless apologies, the public apology, has become fashionable in the last few years among athletes and celebrities. Perhaps the most famous in recent memory was Tiger Woods’ 14-minute apology press conference. And just last week, comedian Daniel Tosh issued a half-hearted Twitter apology for some questionable jokes he made at the expense of a heckler at one of his stand-up shows. Whenever I hear about these forced public apologies, I think of that episode of The Simpsons when Bart is forced to apologize to the Australian government.

Bart: No problem. I’m great at fake apologies!
Marge: Bart!
Bart: I’m sorry…

I was the victim of a less-than-genuine apology a few months ago while out to dinner with family. We had reservations for later that night, but two members of our party stopped into the restaurant during the day to request the round table situated closest to the front window. The daytime hostess made a note to seat us there when we came back later, but when we arrived for dinner we noticed another party of the same size was sitting at the round table and was just starting their meal. The nighttime hostess sat us at another table and went to track down the owner.

By the time the owner came over to our table, we’d been apologized to by the hostess, who apparently never got a message from the other hostess about saving us the table, and our server, who may have been concerned that we’d take out our frustrations on his tip (we didn’t, though he later semi-apologized again when one of our entrees was wrong, saying “Sorry…but it’s not my fault”). The owner told us he was sorry for the miscommunication and explained that the group that got our table were his friends from out of town. In other words, he was sorry we were upset, but if the same circumstances arose again, we would still not get the table because we were not his friends from out of town. Sorry means nothing.

Semi-phony apologies are extremely common in customer service situations because sometimes just hearing the word sorry, even if it’s disingenuous, can often assuage a customer’s negative experience to some degree. (It might also soften an otherwise harsh Yelp review.) Comedian Louis C.K. has a great bit where he talks about hanging up on an airline customer service representative from Pakistan–where they likely have bigger problems than a long layover–because he knows whatever contrition she offers is purely fabricated. Instead he’d rather speak with the saccharine woman from Texas who seems more sympathetic to his plight.

On the subject of fake apologies, there’s one last kind that comes to mind–one that any tennis player should know. When a player unintentionally hits a ball that grazes the top of the net and barely trickles over–making it impossible to return–often the player will put his head down and his hand up, as if to say, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to win the point that way.” It’s meant as a gesture of sportsmanship, but you’d be hard-pressed to find a tennis player who would offer a “do-over” in that situation rather than keeping the point for himself. (Next time you’re watching pro tennis, look for the Fake I’m Sorry Wave.)

Every one of us will give and receive a fake apology at some point out of politeness, nervousness, self-interest, or even professional pressure. For my part I’d like to think that when I do decide to issue a genuine apology, when I’m legitimately remorseful for my actions or words, the recipient will know that it means something.