In her new book, The Art of Apology, Lauren Bloom – who has a J.D., don’t forget – tells the story of “Eric,” a humble professional financial advisor who made a big mistake.
I assume Eric isn’t his real name. I shall further cloak his identity by calling him The Pro.
Persons in Sheffield, UK, indicating their wish to retain their pension plans without modification.
The Pro had a gig advising a pension plan for a small town’s employees. When the town negotiated with the municipal union, The Pro supplied estimates of how much each of many possible benefits might cost the town.
The town and the union came to a deal, and signed an agreement.
A few weeks later, The Pro realized he’d gotten one of the calculations wrong. The estimate he’d given the town for one of the benefits in the pension plan was way low. It would cost a lot more than he’d said. Of course, this was one of the benefits that had ended up in the pension plan.
Hell. He recalculated the cost. Being a pro, he went to the town officials, confessed his mistake, and apologized. Bloom says he did this because he could not “in good conscience” keep it from them. Also, “He… realized that his mistake would probably be discovered at some point anyway, so he was facing a potential lawsuit whether he admitted his mistake or not.”
A still from “A Small Town Idol.” (1921) I have not seen this film. Yet. But let’s assume this is the scene where the mayor (left) tells the union (center) about the mistake made by the advisor (right). Mayor played by Marie Prevost, advisor by Ben Turpin, and the union by uncredited lion – an early role for Leo?
The officials were displeased. They discussed a malpractice lawsuit. Yet… no. “By coming forward so quickly, he made it easier for the town government and the union to mitigate the effects of his mistake, and everyone… was impressed by [The Pro]’s integrity. The town officials decided that the town could afford to offer the benefit…” The pension plan stood as agreed.
Hey! I did not see that coming.
Bloom says this shows that one benefit of apology can be “to persuade a disappointed client or customer not to sue you.” She says the main reason is to make things right, but still – “you may find, as [The Pro] did, that the other party comes away with such a high opinion of you that he or she wouldn’t dream of giving you a hard time in court.”
As you can see, Bloom’s book is oriented toward apologies in business and legal situations. “[B]eing able to apologize effectively can be an essential weapon in your professional arsenal.”
She offers the interesting business-oriented suggestion that you document your apologies.
“Once you’ve made your apology and it has been accepted, it’s often a good idea to make a record of what happened…. It confirms that the conversation took place, demonstrates your belief that things have been set to rights, and proves that you did the right thing by apologizing to the other person. It also gives you an opportunity to confirm the next steps you’ve agreed to take [to make amends], so that any misunderstandings can be ironed out before they become major problems.” (Plus then you can CHECK IT OFF your list.)
You see why I mentioned the JD. (She’s also an interfaith minister.) Bloom also addresses personal apologies, and it’s a useful book.
Here are Bloom’s 6 elements of a good apology:
Say You’re Sorry, Sincerely
Take Responsibility
Make Amends
Express Appreciation
Listen
Do Better Next Time
Good list. I really like “Listen.” That’s not happening in some public apologies. Shia?
The book’s oriented toward ongoing relationships, as “Express Appreciation” shows. So if you trample a stranger in a crowd, you don’t usually say “I’m sorry I stepped on your foot, totally my fault, that’s such a great bookbag.” Or if you do, it comes off weird.
“Oh, hell to the no! LOOK at this. You SEE why I told Little Missy the flower selections for the hall were ALL WRONG.”
The “sincerely” in “Say You’re Sorry, Sincerely” is an over-simplification. Thus, Bloom gives an example of “Sally” and her rude, bigoted, opinionated, unpleasant, outrageously-behaved mother-in-law-to-be. When “Eleanor” carps endlessly about the wedding plans, Sally finally calls her a bad name.
Sally’s fiance is upset. Though his mother’s a jerk, he loves her. Sally sends flowers to Eleanor with a lovely note of apology. Bloom calls this a “classy, elegant gesture” and “the best wedding present Sally could have given to her husband-to-be.”
That wasn’t sincere. Sally sent flowers because she was afraid Eleanor would set her off again if she tried to apologize in person. It wasn’t sincere, and that’s fine.
Once upon a time I would not have agreed; I was a fan of ONLY apologizing when sincere, and refusing to do so when I didn’t feel it. However, I was on the front row for an acquaintance’s work mess wherein my acquaintance apologized when she didn’t feel it, just to stop the downward spiral of…well, basically everything. I think when you’re dealing with a passive-aggressive boss/superior who will continue to a.) be unable to disengage, or b.) go into hysterics, c.) give you the Reproachful Silent Treatment indefinitely, apologizing at least for your part in creating the situation must be acceptable.
Though I still don’t think apologizing for whatever they’re pissed about, just to shut them up, would work for me personally. Maybe (maybe?! Hah.) I’m being super idealistic, but it bugs me to give up my ethical/moral high ground for mere convenience. (“Which makes that ground a lot less high, missy,” she said to herself. Hmmm.) Maybe I haven’t had bad enough work imbroglios myself.
Aaaargh. The apology as “weapon”. Ugh.
I had a situation years ago in which I had a bitter disagreement with someone with whom I was good friends. That person happens to be very black and white about perceived wrong doing. While I was quite convinced that I was right, I felt that I would lose the friendship forever if I did not apologize.
I apologized even though it was insincere (I sincerely felt there was no wrongdoing on my part.) I am still extremely good friends with that person nearly 20 years later, I do not regret that apology.
Thanks for the kind words about “Art of the Apology.” I’m glad you find the book useful and hope your readers will agree. For the record, “Eric” isn’t The Pro’s name, but he does exist. All of the anecdotes in “Art of the Apology” are true stories, with names and identifying facts changed, including his.
Thank YOU, Lauren!