Apologies.
When I was President of the Forsyth County Bar Association, one of my jobs was to write a monthly President’s Message addressed to the thousand or so attorneys in Forsyth County. As we approach a new year, I thought I would share one of these messages here. We (attorneys and clients alike) are often so scared that an apology will result in a loss of power that we fail to recognize how powerful it really can be. Sometimes it is the vulnerability of a sincere apology that allows everyone participating in a collaborative divorce session to move forward towards a positive resolution.
On Sunday morning, I was taking a casual stroll across the field at Graylyn with my daughters, Audrey & Alice, and two of their friends. We were returning from a visit to the fairy houses tucked away in Reynolda Village and had spent a delightful hour playing in the creek. Audrey, who was celebrating her 7th birthday, was about 75 yards ahead of me, Sydney’s leash in hand. One friend was 10 feet behind her; the other friend and Alice were holding my hands as we chatted about the copious amounts of sugar I’d allowed them to consume at breakfast. The skies were blue and clear; the temperatures were unseasonably warm; I was literally surrounded by laughter and frolicking. It was an idyllic moment. And then . . .
. . . an unleashed giant of a white dog bounded towards Audrey. Audrey tried to pull Sydney away, but as everyone knows a 45-pound dog is unlikely to be deterred by a first grader. Her friend ran to help, pulling on Sydney’s leash. I dropped the sticky hands I was holding and took off towards the unfolding drama. Chaos ensued. Dogs were barking; kids were yelling; the strange dog’s hackles were most definitely up. I took the leash and attempted to move Sydney and the girls away. The owner meandered over and finally made it to the ruckus. She explained that her dog is friendly. I gestured to the children and asked that she secure her dog. After some back and forth about her dog wanting to play, she finally leashed her dog and huffed off, though not before telling me that I didn’t need to be so unfriendly about it.
Meanwhile, I turn to my precious charges and we have a powwow about dog safety (i.e., never reach down to grab a pup that isn’t yours; definitely don’t put yourself between two dogs; and, when in doubt, it’s okay to drop the leash). Then we talked about how everyone was feeling (a little scared, a little upset, a lot concerned for Sydney who’d managed to go and have herself a doggie anxiety attack).
And then an amazing thing happened. This woman, who I’d guess was in her late twenties, apologized. She apologized to me; she apologized to the girls; and she went one colossal step further by backing me up to these naively doe-eyed children who took in her every word as their stress (and mine) was visibly whisked away into the pale blue ether.
What would it be like if we lawyers were able to offer a sincere apology when we got something wrong? What good would come to the profession if we held ourselves accountable for the personal attack we let slip from our lips (or keyboards) in the heat of the moment? How much more pleasant would the practice of law be if we genuinely apologized for being short with our legal assistants and paralegals on long days with looming deadlines? What would it do to the reputation of all lawyers to acknowledge to our clients how frustrating it must be not to have their phone call(s) returned in a timely fashion?
So in an effort to help us avoid yet another banal New Year’s Resolution, I propose we consider falling on our proverbial sword this year. According to experts far more knowledgeable than I, a proper apology should: 1) take responsibility for that which you did wrong; 2) be genuine and sincere; and, 3) share how you would do it differently in the future.
Committing ourselves to this resolution will be no easy task, I admit. But since half of us have already caved by {insert unhealthy behavior you swore you’d give up for real this time} and the other forty-nine percent will succumb by the beginning of March, I’m thinking we might as well give it a go. Perfection is a myth and mistakes will occur, so we better go ahead and get comfortable with addressing it. After all, the caliber of our character is not measured by our ability to achieve perfection but our willingness to offer atonement when we err.
