For years, half my emails started the same way:
"Sorry for the delayed response..." "Apologies for the late reply..." "I'm so sorry this took so long..."
I thought I was being polite. I was actually undermining myself.
Here's what I learned when I stopped apologizing for response time — and what happened next.
What I Was Really Saying
When you apologize for response time, you're communicating several things:
"Your timeline is more important than mine." You're accepting that their expectation (immediate response) is valid and your behavior (responding when you could) is wrong.
"I'm behind." Every apology reinforces the narrative that you're overwhelmed, disorganized, or can't keep up.
"I owe you faster." You're implicitly promising to do better next time — a promise you probably can't keep, which sets you up for more apologies.
"This email is already starting from a deficit." Before you've said anything substantive, you've framed yourself as the person who let them down.
None of these are messages I want to send. But I was sending them dozens of times a week.
The Expectation Myth
Here's the thing: most people don't actually expect instant responses.
When I asked colleagues and parents what response time they expected from me, the answers surprised me:
- Staff expected responses within 24-48 hours
- Parents expected responses within 48 hours
- Board members expected responses within a few days unless urgent
Nobody said "immediately." The urgency was in my head.
What creates the perception of expectation:
- Seeing that someone sent an email hours ago and feeling guilty
- Remembering the one time someone complained about slow response
- Assuming that others share our own anxiety about inbox zero
The expectation for instant response is largely a story we tell ourselves.
I've written about the system that makes this sustainable in The No-Admin Inbox and The Inbox Zero Lie.
What I Do Instead
I replaced apologies with three alternatives:
Alternative 1: Just answer
Most of the time, I just answer the email. No preamble. No acknowledgment of time passed.
They asked a question. I answered it. That's what they wanted. They don't need my feelings about how long it took.
Example:
- ~~"Sorry for the delay! The answer is yes, we can adjust the schedule."~~
- "Yes, we can adjust the schedule. Here's what I'd suggest..."
Alternative 2: Thank them
If I want to acknowledge the wait, I thank them instead of apologizing.
"Thanks for your patience" accomplishes the same social function as an apology without the self-deprecation.
Example:
- ~~"Sorry it took me a while to get back to you on this."~~
- "Thanks for your patience on this. Here's what I found out..."
The shift from "sorry" to "thanks" changes who's doing whom a favor. You're thanking them for being reasonable, not apologizing for being slow.
Alternative 3: Acknowledge and move on
For genuinely long delays (a week or more), I briefly acknowledge it without groveling.
"I'm getting back to you on [topic]" acknowledges there was a gap without making it a big deal.
Example:
- ~~"I'm so sorry it's taken me forever to respond to this. I know you sent it ages ago and I feel terrible."~~
- "Getting back to you on the facilities question — here's my thinking..."
The Exceptions
There are times when a real apology is warranted:
If the delay caused actual harm. If someone missed a deadline or opportunity because you didn't respond in time, that deserves acknowledgment.
If you made a specific commitment. If you said "I'll get back to you by Friday" and it's now Wednesday of the next week, own it.
If the relationship calls for it. With certain people (a board chair, a key parent), the relationship might require more explicit acknowledgment.
But these are exceptions. The default should be responding without apology.
What Happened When I Stopped
I expected pushback. I thought people would think I was rude or uncaring.
Here's what actually happened: nothing.
Nobody commented on the lack of apology. Nobody seemed to notice. The emails were just... emails.
What did change:
My emails got shorter. Without a preamble of apologies, I got to the point faster. People probably appreciated that more than my contrition.
I felt less guilty. The constant apologizing was reinforcing my own sense of being behind. Without it, my inbox felt less like a source of shame.
I modeled something different. After I stopped apologizing, I noticed some of my team members stopped too. We were collectively stepping off the hamster wheel of performative guilt.
The Deeper Pattern
The email apology is part of a larger pattern: over-apologizing as a leadership style.
I used to apologize for:
- Asking people to do their jobs
- Setting boundaries
- Making decisions people disagreed with
- Taking time to think before answering
- Not being available 24/7
Each apology felt like politeness. Cumulatively, they communicated uncertainty and weakness.
I'm not saying leaders should never apologize. Genuine apologies for real mistakes are important. But reflexive apologizing — apologizing for existing, for having needs, for not being perfect — that erodes authority.
This connects to the broader tension I wrote about in The Difference Between Running a School and Being Run By One.
The Response Time Conversation
If response time is actually a problem in your organization, address it directly instead of through apologies.
Set explicit expectations:
- "I check email three times a day. If something is urgent, text me."
- "I respond to parent emails within 48 hours. Urgent safety issues get same-day response."
- "I'm slow on email but fast on Slack."
When you set expectations explicitly, you can meet them without guilt. And you're not implicitly promising something you can't deliver.
How to Make the Shift
If you're a chronic apologizer, here's how to change:
Notice it. For one week, put a tally mark every time you apologize in an email. Just awareness changes behavior.
Pause before sending. Before you hit send, scan for "sorry" and "apologize." Delete them. See if the email still works. (It usually does.)
Replace with thanks. If you feel like you need something, swap "sorry for the delay" with "thanks for your patience."
Remind yourself of reality. When guilt creeps in, remember: most people aren't timing your responses. The urgency is usually in your head.
Give yourself permission. You're allowed to respond to emails when you can respond to emails. That's not a character flaw.
The Message You Want to Send
Here's what I want to communicate now:
"I'm a thoughtful leader with a lot of demands on my time. I prioritize carefully. I respond to things when I can give them proper attention. That's a feature, not a bug."
That message is incompatible with constant apologizing.
The email apology feels small. But language shapes reality. Every time you apologize for response time, you're telling yourself — and others — a story about who you are.
Choose a different story.
If you're struggling with email overwhelm, boundaries, or the general sense that you're always behind, let's talk. Sometimes the systems are the problem. Sometimes the mindset is. Usually it's both.