Unabashedly reblogged from Seth Godin, because he is awesome.
Two elements of an apology
Compassion and Contrition
“We’re sorry that your flight was cancelled. This must have truly messed up your day, sir.”
That’s a statement of compassion.
“Cancelling a flight that a valued customer trusted us to fly is not the way we like to do business. We messed up, it was an error in judgment for us to underinvest in pilot allocation. Even worse, we didn’t do everything we could to get you on a flight that would have helped your schedule. We’ll do better next time.”
That’s what contrition sounds like. We were wrong and we learned from it.
The disappointing thing is that most people and organizations that take the time to apologize intentionally express neither compassion nor contrition.
If you can’t do this, hardly worth bothering.
But it is worth bothering, because you’re a human. And because customers who feel listened to help you improve (and come back to give you another chance.)
Here’s my version:
Compassion and Contrition
“We’re sorry that we did this to you. This was a horrible time for you, you were grieving the loss of a beloved parent, and we made it much, much worse.”
That’s a statement of compassion.
“Yelling at a loved sister who trusted us is not the way we should have acted. We messed up, it was wrong of us to have accused you of criticizing Susan and her job in an attempt to justify her ridiculously rude behavior to you. Even worse, we went around making sure everyone knew our side of the story, and we spun the story and assassinated your character to make us look good. And then when Mom died, we blamed you for doing exactly the same thing Susan did. To top it off, when it turned out that you were still upset and angry about the awful, horrible things that had been done to you, we didn’t do everything we could to make things right, to hold the right people accountable, to show you that we love you, and that we are truly sorry this happened. We’ll do better next time.”
That’s what contrition sounds like. We were wrong and we learned from it.
The disappointing thing is that my family thinks this is an acceptable apology, which intentionally expresses neither compassion nor contrition. It is so very carefully worded to avoid doing either of those things.
They can’t do this — so it’s hardly worth bothering.
But it should be worth bothering, because I’m a part of this family — except that I am slowly learning and accepting that in reality, I am not. And because family who feel loved come back to give you another chance.
I don’t feel loved, and I’m not giving any more chances.