A poisoned apology is an apology wrapped around an insult, like a cupcake with mud filling. People don’t want to accept the apology, because they don’t want to accept the insult that goes with it.

“I apologize for kicking you, but you were so damned irritating.” “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings – you know, if you’re going to get upset about remarks like that, you might be too thin-skinned for this job.”

Some poisoned apologies are more subtle. “I spoke in haste, and I apologize to anyone who was upset by my remarks.” This divides the audience into those who weren’t upset and those who were, indicating that being upset was optional.

Sometimes it’s just an insult, dressed up as if it were an apology: “I’m sorry if you took what I said the wrong way.” “I apologize if what I said was more than you could handle.” “I’m sorry I even tried to help you!”

Why do people poison their apologies? Sometimes they’re focused on saving their pride. Sometimes they can’t resist defending themselves or proving themselves right. Sometimes they’re angry that they have to apologize, so they go on the attack. Sometimes they’re just being nasty.

But sometimes people poison apologies accidentally.

Sometimes people apologize well and sincerely, and then ruin it with explanations, advice or even criticism. They’re surprised – or even indignant – when their apologies aren’t accepted.

Why do they reject my sincere apologies? They even come with free advice.

Explanations are often a good thing, but they need to be clearly separated from the apology. They have the potential to poison an apology. “I’m sorry I yelled at you” is an apology. “I’m having a bad day because of that idiot principal, and I took it out on you” is an explanation (ideally followed by “and I shouldn’t have done that”). “I’m sorry I yelled at you, but I’m having a bad day,” is a poisoned apology. It implies that more of the same may be in store. The day is still bad. Having to apologize didn’t help. “I’m sorry I yelled at you, but your suggestions reminded me of stuff my mother says” is poisoned.

So keeping an apology and an explanation in separate sentences is a good practice. Depending on the situation, the explanation might be best right away (to explain why on earth you reacted so badly) or at another time (to avoid poisoning the apology but eventually to explain that the phrase “Sweetheart, just a hint – ” makes you want to go on a killing spree).

Poisoned apologies make things even worse. You start by apologizing for yelling at someone, and the next thing you know you’re fighting about people’s mothers. Not good.

Giving advice along with an apology is also poison.

“Sorry I yelled at you, but if you want people to listen to you, you shouldn’t use such a whiny tone of voice.” No. An apology is an apology, not a chance to take the upper hand by making it a teachable moment. The only thing your apology should teach someone is that you are someone who can apologize well.

You try to be helpful, and people get all. Bent. Out. of. Shape.

If you actually have good advice for them, guess what? This is not the time. If you seriously think they should seek therapy? Don’t tell them now. That is a different conversation from an apology. If you give advice, you will poison a perfectly good apology.

I’m sorry if this was more than you wanted to hear.