Let’s face it, you've got a lot to be sorry for.
The mistakes you make on the job. The mistakes you make off the job. The mistakes of omission. The mistakes of commission. The mistake of being in the wrong hallway at the wrong time when the big boss comes bursting out of their office, looking for someone to fire.
So, you say you’re sorry and hope it will cover your latest mistake and your next and the one after that. But what if the very act of saying you’re sorry is a mistake?
That’s the opinion of Lorraine K. Lee, the author of “Stop Saying Sorry — to Sound Confident and Get Respect, Make These Subtle Yet Powerful Changes,” a provocative article on cnbc.com.
It’s a matter of language, really. Saying “Sorry, but can I just say something quick” in a raucous meeting with marketing or responding to a shellacking from the senior vice president of operations with a feeble, “Sorry I exist” will, over time, make an impression and not a good one.
Lee does accept that “apologizing has its place: when you’ve actually done something wrong.” The problem arises “when it becomes your default,” leading others to “perceive you as weak.”
No question, in today’s workplace, you don’t want to be perceived as weak. Managers are trimming the herd. Being predators, it’s an evolutionary imperative that they will choose the most frail and fragile first when the culling begins. Insist on apologizing about having an opinion or sending an email or simply taking up space and that would be y-o-u.
If you’re feeling sorry about all the times you say sorry, Lee has some good, solid remedies to the problem and I have some significantly less good ideas I will share below. If I turn out to be dead wrong, let me say in advance, I’m not sorry.
No. 1: “Make subtle yet powerful changes.”
There are simple substitutions you can make, like replacing “Sorry, I’m late” with “Thanks for waiting,” and “Appreciate you taking the time to read this” instead of “Sorry for the long message.” The idea here is to “show you value the other person’s time without shrinking your presence.”
An easier replacement strategy is to adopt one simple, memorable phrase that works in all situations. See if you can guess this magic phrase in the following examples:
“I’ll tell you why I’m late. It’s because you’re an idiot,” and “Yes, I sent a long message. It’s because you’re an idiot.”
By shrinking the other person instead of yourself, you become bigger — gigantic, really. And considering the people you work with, the idiot part is probably accurate.
No. 2: “Trim unnecessary apologies out of neutral interactions.”
Don’t apologize because you have opinions. Your bad ideas are no worse than everyone else’s. While your co-workers are dithering, forget phrases like “Sorry to interrupt, but ...” or “I might be wrong, but ....” Instead, boost acceptance with a friendly phrase that encourages team spirit, like “Listen up, losers ...” or “Let’s make this simple. I talk. You obey.”
Delivered correctly — that is, dripping with arrogance — this is the kind of statement that says “management material.”
No. 3: Break the “sorry” habit.
Count how many times you say or write “sorry” during the workday. The total may surprise you, but it isn’t likely to surprise your manager, who — have you noticed? — acts like you have a lot to apologize for.
By freeing yourself of the need to apologize, you will be able to lead your best life at work. No more will you interrupt a meeting to say, “Sorry, but is it OK if I take a second jelly doughnut?” You’ll say, “Yes, I’m taking a second jelly doughnut, and I may take a third. You got anything to say about that, tough noogies.”
With your workday no longer an apology-fest, you can stop pretending to be sorry for missing deadlines or failing to meet minimal expectations. “Who are you to judge me?” will be your mantra. It’s an attitude that will solve a lot of problems at your job. When you are suddenly offboarded and find yourself escorted to the parking lot, you can bring the sorry/not sorry strategy home to use with your partner and friends, but never your pets.
“Yes, it’s the cheap dog food again,” you can say to your Schnoodle, “and I’m deeply sorry.”
It’s humiliating, I know, but it’s the least you can do if you expect them to share.
Bob Goldman was an advertising executive at a Fortune 500 company. He offers a virtual shoulder to cry on at info@creators.com.
Copyright 2026 Creators Syndicate Inc.