The age of digital communication has bred a generation of over-apologizers.

by Carly Dyer

Not even a month ago, I was emailing with a potential employer about setting up a follow-up interview, when I encountered one of the more awkward digital exchanges that I’ve experienced. She asked me to meet her at a time that just happened to be right after I was having my hair trimmed, and not wanting to seem unkempt at the interview, I joked that the time worked as long as she was okay with me showing up with soaked hair. Her response read, “I’m more concerned with what you have to say than how your hair looks.” Unable to tell if she was being nice and reassuring, or if she was criticizing me for being superficial, it totally freaked me out. I had to fight everything in myself to not email her back to apologize, but I wasn’t even sure what I would be apologizing for. Agonizing over how I wished the stupid comment about my hair could be taken back, I refrained from apologizing because I was trying break the habit of unnecessarily saying sorry. We hit it off during my interview, and I admitted how our interaction had made me uncomfortable and that I wanted to apologize, but refrained. We ended up laughing about it, but the strangeness of that unsure digital interaction left me feeling anxious and loathing email altogether.

Admitting that you’ve done something wrong is a sacrifice of pride, yet we’ve found a way to frequently slip the proverbial “sorry” into digital interactions. Without body language and tone, an email, for example, could be read multiple ways. Even with all our fancy devices, new technologies and popular social networks, email holds its ground. It’s easily one of the most common forms of communication today, especially when it comes to the work place and organizations. And these are the people you really don’t want to piss off. So it comes as no surprise that this is where most of the apologizing is happening. After speaking with a communications consultant and a few good friends, it’s become clear that not only are necessary digital apologies complex (professionally and socially alike), but that women still do most of the apologizing, necessarily and reflexively.

I’ve reached out to a few friends to get their take on that incessant urge to tack on an easy “sorry” at the end of emails and texts. Honestly, I wasn’t sure whether or not this was something they would relate to. My friends are strong-willed, vocal women who never hesitate to call me out or tell me what it is that they need. So I was a little surprised, and perhaps even a bit relieved, to find that I’m not the only one who backpedals while communicating digitally. However, talking about this at first required a bit of teeth pulling. It wasn’t that they weren’t doing it, it’s that some of them hadn’t even realized they were doing it. And not only had they not realized they were short-handing their authority, they weren’t exactly sure why.

Sue O’Halloran, a diversity and communications consultant to corporations, nonprofits, colleges and school districts, said that over-apologizing “can give the appearance of weakness,” calling it “a verbal tic” that “backfires every time.” She also said it causes women to “become diminished in other people’s eyes.” Although there is great truth to these statements, after speaking with some wise friends, I realized that it isn’t always that simple. Yes, to some degree, unnecessary apologies are a sign of weakness. A former colleague of mine said, “Men are encouraged to be confident, but women are encouraged to be likable.” Because of this, she believes that we expect other women to be as apologetic as we consider ourselves to be. When asking her if she judged other women who didn’t apologize at times when she would, she told me that she was so worried about coming off as “rude or flippant,” that she wasn’t even aware when others did it. Most of my friends were worried about coming off in a negative light, that “you can’t smile at someone or touch their arm or use other body language to signify that you are being friendly and responsive.”

So rather than women pressuring other women to profusely apologize, it’s become this self-invoked, insecure habit. I argue that we’ve taken it too far, that we apologize and disclaim because it’s easier. O’Halloran said, “We have negative feelings toward people who appear ‘needy’ because we feel too much will be asked of us. The person might be a burden rather than a true peer.” And now there is the potential that we will be caught, as women often are, between two stereotypes: the needy, overly apologetic woman, or the bitch who doesn’t care.

By apologizing when you’ve done nothing wrong, you are not only admitting to something untrue, but you’re also giving the recipient of this false apology an opportunity to say, “Yes, you did something wrong. You’re even apologizing for it!” You’re breathing life into the beast of a false crime. Unless you’ve actually done something that you feel is wrong, don’t assume everyone’s going to be upset with you when things don’t work out the way they planned. It doesn’t have to all fall on you. And taking this even further, sometimes there is no one to blame at all.

We are all guilty of throwing in the well-known “I kind of…” before making a statement that we actually feel quite strongly about. It’s not uncommon to toss in “no offense” to a statement of criticism. But these are all examples of grammatical waste, of words that don’t help us get our point across and instead weaken a strong statement or blur an insult.

I had one friend who defended her urge to say sorry in emails, which she uses almost primarily for work. A self-proclaimed “apologetic person”, she argues that it is actually an asset when it comes to her sales job. She admitted that she believes apologizing via email is a “cop-out”, but that it’s important for her to “have someone see an apology and explanation in a text or email rather than giving them the chance to interrupt” while trying to explain herself. Having to serve as a communicator between her company and their clients, it’s extremely important that she doesn’t rub anyone the wrong way, which means “treating everything like it’s a big deal.” This is a role that she feels comfortable with, and she loves her job. It’s important to be confident and dignified in your choice to apologize, rather than making choices from a place of insecurity.

O’Halloran explained, “If there’s really something about which one should make amends, then apologizing is a source of strength.” And I completely agree with her. A true, honest apology requires humility and a willingness to admit you screwed up, no justifications, no explaining your way out of it. As much as I’d like to never hurt anyone or make inconsiderate choices, I certainly do from time to time and I’m pretty damn sure that we all do. So I’m not here to tell you that apologizing makes you weak, but to say that it’s actually an extremely important skill, and that continuously over apologizing when you’ve done nothing wrong belittles your authority and the apologies that count.

We’ve assigned social norms for which form of communication is best for specific types of apologies, and even though people sometimes color outside the lines (such as drunken heartfelt ramblings via Facebook messaging), it seems rather obvious what choices are appropriate. But it’s also subjective, and what’s obvious to me might be totally different from what is obvious to someone else. People don’t really break down these rules for you, but they’re kind of just known (See what I did there?). And although not everyone sticks to these rules 100 percent of the time, there’s this notion that some known common standard exists. Misperceptions are painfully easy to fall into and this causes insecurity to transform from mouse to monster.

Perhaps when the babies of today grow into adults, they will have mastered digital communication and the necessary apologies that come with being human. I’ve seen toddlers with skills on an iPad that I find baffling. Maybe all that is heard in 2024 will be clicks, clacks, and muffled music coming from trendy headphones, and people will forget they have actual voices. But until that day, and while many of us are still young, we all walk on digital eggshells.

 

Carly Dyer is a writer, copy editor, and newly minted barista. She graduated from University of Missouri, studying English and fashion, and now takes up residence in Chicago. You can find more of her work in Chicago magazine and RedEye Chicago.