On Apologies

Communication is an art — apologies, doubly so. Yesterday, I found myself reviewing an attempt at atonement. While it didn’t lack style or “ly” adverbs, the writing did ignore a few staples of the “I’ve run afoul” genre. Upon initial reading, the letter wasn’t offensive in its oversights; it was just from a different era — a little more Whedonesque than Shakespearean. Generally, an apology is an admission of fault without deviating into tangential topics or situations. It’s typically good form to avoid the “I’m sorry, but…” formula so prevalent in boardrooms, political arenas and 3rd grade playgrounds.

I’ll demonstrate:

I was an utter shit. I’m working to rectify that reality; I’m regret my behavior.

The apology I read yesterday was much more verbose; I’ve done my best here, but in regard to sheer length — I have fallen well short of the letter which prompted this response. Maybe I’m the one who should practice. I did omit a few things. There’s the backhanded “we must agree to disagree.” feign. I really like that one; it’s particularly effective when the thing you disagree on is crucial to civility or a person’s character. It all at once sounds as if bygones are bygones, but also insinuates one of you has a broken definition regarding a most important aspect of being. As the writer, is it you? If two fictional characters argue, the author is really the only one who wins. Two stand up individuals have very different ideas about a foundational concept — stalemate?

I think I probably am the erring party here. I can be so cocky — so sure I’ve sorted the art of regret. The writer of the inciting apology has given and received far more apologies than I. Heavens — if I were to keep the collection of similarly deep expressions of sincere reconciliation this family had received from this rather practiced apologist, I doubt I’d have a drawer for my socks. Experience, at least, is definitely on his side.

I behaved horribly. I’m so sorry. But upon reflection, I still don’t understand why you have decided to be such a terrible person.

That feels better, at least. Not only did I present a dignified and appropriate attempt at reconciliation. I also breached the coward’s shield — out of place and time brutal honesty. After all, I’m the one talking. It’s only fair I get my jabs — sorry — truths, in. Yes. I think I’ll do that repeated for a few thousand words; people love War and Peace for a reason, after all.

In summary…

• Apologies should be very long; an audience cannot process apologies articulated in under 2500 words.
  
• Apologies must be brutal, honest and above all defensive. The why you did your terrible deed is much more important than restoration of peace or any expression of liability.
• Win.