By Miel Sloan
“I’m so sorry for being late. I ran into traffic. I should’ve anticipated it and left earlier.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t want to lunch at McDonald’s. I know it’s quick and cheap, but I don’t feel well after I eat it.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m just not that interested in football.”
“I ate the last slice of watermelon. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, that time doesn’t work for me. I have to drop my son off at daycare at that hour. Is there another time you’re available?”
“This project is taking a little longer than I had anticipated. I’m sorry, but I’ll need one more week to complete it.”
“I’m sorry, but my son is sick, and I’ll need a few more days to complete this project. I hope you can understand. Again, I’m so sorry.”
“I’m sorry to pester you, but I haven’t received payment yet for the work completed two weeks ago.”
That’s who I used to be. At home, at work, with friends, with family, with clients, with strangers. I might as well have said, I’m sorry, is it okay with you if I breathe this air a few feet from you? I’m sorry that I need oxygen, water, a little space for my little rear end crammed between men on the train, painfully aware that they were spilling into my seat. I’d cross my legs, pull my arms in, apologize for occasionally moving my hand to turn a page in the book I was reading on my commute.
Over the years, I’ve noticed other people, particularly women, share this tendency to apologize. And to explain. In particular, at work and in my editing business, I thought I needed to explain to clients why I couldn’t meet at the time that was most convenient to them or why I would need more time or why I was raising my prices for the first time in three years. As if I should apologize for increasing my prices even close to the rate of inflation.
Aren’t my services worth what I charge, an average market rate for someone with decades of experience and a record of success?
Yet writing that, I confess, that I cringe. I was taught to be modest, not to boast, not to brag, not to be loud, not to assert.
Here’s a lesson I learned from a man I dated years ago, an attorney who was CEO of a law firm in the United States. In twenty years in that position, he said he couldn’t count the number of male employees who confidently marched into his office insisting they were worth more than what he paid them. Sometimes, he said, they were right, and he raised their salaries. Sometimes, he said, they were remarkably off base but equally as confident in their job performance.
However, in those twenty years, he said no women ever did the same. Sometimes some of his best lawyers, who were women, went on the job market to earn more money and when they put in their resignation, he asked why they didn’t ask for a counteroffer before accepting the other position. They responded that it hadn’t occurred to them that they could do so.
I’ve shared this with women friends in many different careers; one in IT subsequently wrote a proposal to her supervisor for a raise. When she did market research, she found out she was being paid 15% less than her worth for her education and experience. Her supervisor responded that he’d think about her request. She replied, “Thank you, I appreciate that. I want to let you know that until that time, I’ll continue to apply to other positions with more equitable pay.” The next day, he offered her the salary she requested.
Her confidence and ability to assert herself and frame it with gratitude has inspired me.
I believe my tendency to apologize is rooted in a failure to see my own worth coupled with an upbringing that reinforced societal values of women as most prized when they are quiet, modest, “seen” and “not heard” (just like children!), and taking up as little space as possible.
I have found that the best way to change that thinking, for me, is not to focus on the thoughts but to focus on the actions that intensify or change unhealthy thought patterns. Apologizing and explaining myself, as if I have to justify everything from my tastes and preferences to my family obligations intensifies the feeling that I am not worthy. So first I had to become cognizant of how much I apologized. This started by carrying a piece of paper with a small pencil in my pocket and keeping a tally every time in a twenty-four hour period that I apologized. Wow! Well over a hundred times.
Second, I decided instead of apologizing to say thank you. I also decided to say less, to stop explaining myself, to become comfortable in the silent space after I assert myself.
The more I say thank you, the less I apologize, and the less I explain, the more I’ve begun to feel that I truly deserve all the wonderful things in my life.
“Thank you for the opportunity to work with you on this project; I’m happy to hear that it was so helpful to you. Please see the enclosed invoice for services due upon completion of the project.”
“Chapter two is a bit thornier than anticipated, and I’ll need additional time to complete it to the high standards we share. Thank you for your patience.”
“That time does not work for me. These are times I can meet; let me know which is best for you. Thank you for your flexibility.”
“Thank you for leaving that last slice of watermelon. I enjoyed it so much.”
“Football is not my thing, but I do appreciate being invited. Perhaps we could grab a coffee next week?”
“I’d prefer something a bit healthier than McDonald’s. Thank you.”
“Thank you so much for patiently waiting for me.”
This last one is what I say frequently to my own spirit, that strong, confident woman inside of me who has patiently waited for me to stop apologizing for my humanity, to recognize that I am worth success, love, respect, joy and other people’s acceptance of my limits and appreciation for the talents I share with them.
Follow Miel Sloan: @MielSloan
