If to err is human, then to apologise is also human, and to condone is human too.

In my rookie year in sales, my first purchase order was from a prominent government organisation. The PO was released within a few days of sending them our quote, without much negotiation and with decent payment terms. I was euphoric until the faxed PO reached our office. And then all hell broke loose!

While typing the quote, our office assistant committed a grave configuration error. I didn’t know enough about our products to catch that error. Consequently, our prices were all wrong. My boss summarily rejected the PO. I was ordered to either get the PO amended or return it.

The purchase officer spewed fire. Frothing in his mouth, he called me a liar, a cheat, and worse, threatened to blacklist my company. Blacklisting by a prominent government organisation was akin to death; the bulk of institutional IT sales in those days were with the government.

I could visualise my boss firing me. I could sense my career ending before it even started. It felt like everyone around me knew how incapable I was. Maybe I shouldn’t even go back to the office and show my useless face there anymore. Rather, I should just disappear into thin air.

Necessity is indeed the mother of all action! While climbing down the stairs—I didn’t deserve to take the lift any longer—I passed the director’s floor. It was already evening, and the floor was empty. The big boss's office was at the far end of the corridor, its door was slightly ajar. I don’t know from where my courage came, but I literally speed-walked through that door. And there was the topman, sitting at his desk, penning through his thick government files.

He was surprised, and before he could ask anything, I poured my heart out. I apologised unconditionally and then explained to him that my mistake was purely unintentional and came from my inexperience. When I finished, I was exasperated. He offered me water and then a cup of tea. He inquired about me, my company, our products, where all we have sold them, etcetera. Genuine, interested questions from him and forthright, honest answers from me

He then called up the purchasing head, and soon he was there in his office. I can imagine that if not for being in his boss's office, this man would have killed me. The director heard him patiently and then asked him why he gave us the order. "Their price was extremely low," and he wanted to take advantage of that. The next question is: Did he try to find out why our price was so low? What was so different, if not lacking, that caused such a low price? When the purchasing manager nodded his head in the negative, the director then asked him if it wasn’t his responsibility to verify what he was buying and not just issue purchase orders.

Long story short, this story had a happy ending. Though that PO was cancelled, my company got enrolled as their regular vendor. Decades later, when that director had reached the top of his bureaucratic career, we still remained friends, and I did a lot of business with him, although I had changed companies and he, his ministries. He was a very fair man, and even when I lost orders, I never felt wronged.

On my side, I learned to become diligent, taking responsibility for the work that passed through me. If I didn’t understand something, I learned about it by asking dumb questions. I learned the power of an honest apology. No excuses, but a sincere "I screwed up" and "I beg for your forgiveness". Many times, this meant shielding colleagues and my organisation and taking a bullet on their behalf.

I also learned forgiveness. This takes even more courage and conviction in doing so. This takes even more courage and conviction in a deep faith that "if it's human to err, it's also human to condone".

Quoting Esther Perel:

A Good Apology Empowers Us. There is weight to our actions. If we have the power to hurt, we also have the power to take a step toward healing. And, when we apologize first, we open the door for the other person to meet us in that place of open communication. We lessen the shame for them.

Quoting a recent Harvard Business Review article The Power of Saying “I’m Sorry” and “You’re Forgiven” by Prof. James R. Bailey of George Washington University:

Perhaps the two most difficult sentences to utter at work (and in life) are “I’m sorry,” and “You’re forgiven.” Being sorry means acknowledging your shortcomings, something that many of us are loath to do as it bruises our egos. Forgiving can feel scary because it requires genuine magnanimity. As humans, it goes against our biological instinct. We have psychological motivation to avoid threats and exploitation. Forgiving someone who has wronged us or made a mistake that negatively impacts our work makes us vulnerable to future harm.

For those of us early in our careers, this is even more difficult. As someone new to the workplace, you want to build a good reputation. Admitting fault and saying “I’m sorry” may undermine your competence, or worse, spark doubts among your team members. Likewise, readily forgiving people may make you seem like an easy target (say, to a toxic boss, a workplace bully, or a competitive coworker).  Nobody wants to start their career off like that. At the same time, no one wants to be in the situation like that.