A seven-day experiment, the awkward moments to expect, and the sentence that replaces "sorry"

Pull up your sent folder and tally how many times you wrote 'sorry.' Set aside the ones that matter and look only at the reflexes: "Sorry for the wait." "Apologies for the interruption." "Sorry, may I add one thing?" For many women leading teams in Louisville and across Kentuckiana, that number is a surprise, and very few of those apologies were for anything that truly needed forgiving.

Think of what follows as a test drive, a low-stakes first attempt you can learn from. Beginning Monday, "sorry" is saved for real harm: a missed deadline that cost someone, or a mistake about something that mattered. Everything else gets a substitute. Below you will find the typical sequence of changes across a working week, paired with the phrasing that keeps them manageable.

Days 1 and 2: you start to hear yourself

What stands out first is the sheer frequency with which that word shows up in your writing. It sits in your email openers, in the way you walk into meetings, and in the question you ask when the answer was already given. You will catch roughly half of them in time. That is plenty to start.

Swap "Sorry for the delay" for "Thanks for your patience." Replace "Sorry, can I just" with "Let me add something." Use "Here's the update" instead of "Sorry it took so long."

Days 3 and 4: things start to feel awkward.

With the padding removed, your phrasing lands with more force than you are accustomed to. A request is now received as exactly that. A correction is now received as exactly that. Plenty of people abandon the effort right here, since the bluntness can register as impoliteness. It is not rudeness. What you are really doing is writing a sentence minus the apology up front, which is exactly what your coworkers read from one another all day long.

If you need a softener, make it a sincere one: "Thanks for turning this around so quickly" conveys warmth without conceding anything. Write the three sentences you use most often on a sticky note, with a replacement beside each. It feels dull, and it works, because the reflex moves faster than your good intentions.

Day 5: the people around you begin reacting in new ways.

Somewhere around Friday, the way requests come back begins to shift. Answers arrive sooner, and fewer people re-explain what you already understood. The shift is quiet, and that quietness is precisely the value: a message that begins by apologizing asks the reader for a favor, whereas one that begins with the substance asks the reader to take action. You might also see which colleagues were fond of the earlier style. That finding carries value of its own as well.

The single guideline that preserves your humanity

Do not let your tone go chilly. This exercise is not meant to strip out your warmth. It is meant to strip out the suggestion that taking someone's time puts you in debt to them. "Sorry" was doing two jobs. Hold onto the kindness and drop the apology.

When an apology is still the correct response

Save the word for moments when you slipped up and someone in Shively or Okolona ended up paying for it. Offer it one time, offer it completely, and spell out the specific change you are making. Because an apology used sparingly still means something, the rarity is what gives it weight.

Describe what happened

Finish the week, then send us a note describing the hardest moment, the wording you chose in its place, and how things looked by Friday, whether you are working in Louisville, Shively, or Anchorage. With your permission, we will publish the strongest accounts, with your name or without it, as the first entries in a new series of reader stories about what really happens at work across Louisville and beyond.

Your very first step should be reviewing your sent folder. Sorry about that.