The Wit’s Guide to Apologies

Or, forgive up already

Circe begging Ulysses for Mercy after He Has Resisted her Drugged Cup (Relatable!), Williem van Mieris, 1690

I’m sorry, but all apologies are doomed. The problem is the word itself; the original Latin apologia is a formal defense of your conduct, no remorse required. Take the 1940 book A Mathematician’s Apology, which you might think would express regret for imaginary numbers and improper fractions. Instead, author G.H. Hardy dunks on the “how will I ever use this” crowd with lines like “No discovery of mine has made, or is likely to make, directly or indirectly, for good or ill, the least difference to the amenity of the world.” Thanks?

But let’s say you still yearn to deliver a heartfelt and successful apology. How should you do it? In 2012 researchers Roy Lewicki and Beth Polin identified the six key parts of an effective apology, as follows:

1. Express regret.

Did things turn out the way you’d hoped? No! Not even slightly!

“Oh, how I regret not having worn a bikini for the entire year I was twenty-six.”
— Nora Ephron

“Music, I regret to say, affects me merely as an arbitrary succession of more or less irritating sounds.”
— Vladimir Nabokov

2. Explain yourself.

This will be embarrassing, which is good.

“I should never be allowed out in private.”
— Randolph Churchill

“Very sorry can’t come. Lie follows by post.”
— Charles Beresford

3. Take responsibility.

At all costs, avoid the ifpology, the “I’m sorry if you were offended because you’re a prissy weak-kneed nudnik.” Those only work if the recipient is extraordinarily weak-kneed.

“I am so sorry. We have to stop there. I have just come to the end of my personality.”
— Quentin Crisp, ending an interview

4. Declare repentance.

Perhaps this one’s a touch too religious; do we need to know you’re on a new life path? Or can we simply be satisfied with your pledge never to climb into the punchbowl ever again?

“When I consider how my life is spent
I hardly ever repent.”
— Ogden Nash

5. Offer repair.

After all, someone’s gotta fix the hole you burned in the chesterfield. The rest is just meaningless blather.

“If you don’t want to sound like the Pope, who apologizes for everything and for nothing, then your apology should cost you something.”
— Christopher Hitchens

6. Request forgiveness.

This one is best expressed as “I hope you can forgive me” as opposed to asking “Can you forgive me?” and staring them down until they buckle under the strain of your puppy-dog eyes.

“Many promising reconciliations have broken down because, while both parties came prepared to forgive, neither party came prepared to be forgiven.”
— Charles Williams

Do you really have to go through all six steps? Yes, “the greater the number of designated components in an apology, the more effective it was perceived to be,” Lewicki and Polin say in a 2016 follow-up paper published in Negotiation and Conflict Management Research. But if you have to pick one, take responsibility. And if you take two, offer repair. The least useful piece is the request for forgiveness, because wait, why are we talking about you again?

“There are occasions on which all apology is rudeness.”
— Samuel Johnson

But you don’t need a subscription to Negotiation and Conflict Management Research to know that the best apologies are those we’re forced to make by haunted artifacts. Despite the clear warnings, mentions of a curse, and a minimum $325 fine, visitors to the Petrified Forest National Park in Arizona often steal bits of petrified wood, and perhaps slightly less often they come to regret this theft. They’ll mail the rocks back to the park with letters, some of which were collected in the book Bad Luck, Hot Rocks: Conscience Letters & Photographs from the Petrified Forest. 

“To the keeper of the rocks,” one letter reads. “Adolescent foolishness caused me to take this. Adult guilt caused me to return this. In reality there are no excuses. Please forgive. Earth Lover.”

“Modern technology
Owes ecology
An apology.”
— Alan M. Eddison

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Five years ago this week…

This marks the five-year anniversary of Get Wit Quick, a weekly newsletter that began in 2019 with this still-relevant cycling advice:

I’ve distilled all the earthly knowledge uncovered a few times over, for Issues 100 and 150 here.

And here’s the most hearted issue ever:

If you’re inspired to be a part of the next five years, do consider a paying subscription! I’ll send you beautiful artworks in the mail, among other things.

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Quote Vote

“To apologize is to lay the groundwork for a future offense.”
— Ambrose Bierce

And how shall we offend next week?

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That was issue No. 261 of Get Wit Quick, which doesn’t regret to inform you that apologies shouldn’t be pithy. You’ll just end up pithing people off. Perhaps the best modern apology was Dan Harmon’s to Megan Ganz, which is too long and winding to include here but definitely hits the six markers. I’m sorry if you didn’t buy 25 copies of  my book Elements of Wit: Mastering The Art of Being Interesting. Tapping the ❤️  means never having to say “Sorry I didn’t tap the ❤️  !”.