A seven-day experiment, the awkward moments to expect, and the sentence that replaces "sorry"
Open your sent folder and count how many of your emails open with an apology. Skip the genuine ones and count only the reflexive kind: "Sorry for the wait." "Apologies for the interruption." "Sorry, may I just add one thing?" Many women in leadership roles, from downtown Portland offices to teams in Hillsboro and Beaverton, find the total shocking, and nearly none of those apologies were for anything that truly needed forgiving.
Here lies the snag. Beginning on a Monday, reserve the word "sorry" for real harm: a missed deadline that cost someone, or a mistake that mattered. Everything else gets a substitute. What follows is a likely day-by-day progression, along with the phrases that make the switch manageable.
During days 1 and 2, you begin to sense
What stands out first is the sheer frequency of that one little word. It shows up in email openings, when you walk into meetings, and right before you ask something that was already settled. Roughly half of them you will manage to catch in the moment itself. For a starting point, that is more than enough.
Try these swaps: "Thanks for bearing with us" in place of "Sorry for the delay." "Let me add something" in place of "Sorry, can I just." "Here's where things stand" in place of "Sorry it took so long."
By days 3 and 4, the unease sets in
With the padding gone, your sentences hit more directly than you are used to. A request reads as a request. Pointing out an error now lands as just the fix it is. This is when most people give up, since the unfamiliar bluntness can feel rude. It is not rude. It is simply a sentence that begins without an apology, the same kind your male colleagues across the hall use every day.
If you want a softer tone, choose a genuine one: "I appreciate you turning this around so quickly" is warm and owes no apology. Jot the three phrases you lean on most, each paired with its replacement, on a sticky note stuck to your monitor. It feels mundane, and it works, because habit moves faster than intention.
By day 5 in Portland, people begin answering in a different way.
Toward the end of the week, around Friday in Portland, the replies to your requests take on a different tone. Replies arrive sooner. Fewer colleagues restate things you already understood. The shift is subtle, and that subtlety is the point: a sentence opened with an apology invites the listener to grant something, while one opened with the substance invites them to act. Some readers in the Portland metro may have liked the earlier, more apologetic wording better. That is useful information too.
The one principle that keeps you human
Do not grow aloof. The experiment is not about shedding warmth; it is about shedding the message that you owe people something simply for taking up space. "Sorry" was doing two jobs at once. Hold on to the warmth and let go of the apology itself.
When an apology truly fits, Portland readers will know it.
When you were wrong and someone in Gresham or Tigard paid the price. Offer it one time, make it complete, and name what you will change going forward. An apology offered seldom is one that truly counts.
Lay out the facts
Finish the week and send us a note covering the hardest moment, the line you chose in its place, and how things stood by Friday. We will publish the strongest accounts, with your permission and under your name or anonymously, as the first entries in a new series of reader stories about what actually happens at work across Portland and beyond.
Start your search in the folder where your outgoing messages are kept. Sorry about that.