Best Practices: Apologies and Non-Apologies

11.18.12

Sorry.

It’s five letters and in a sincere context those five letters have more power than four. You can say it all sorts of ways.

I am sorry.

I am sorry I made a mistake.

I am sorry I was rude. It won’t happen again.

I am sorry. I showed bad judgement.

All of these short and simple sentences are capable of ending an ugly situation.

A non-apology often escalates a difficult situation. Non-apologies include but are not limited to:

I’m sorry you feel that way.

I’m sorry I thought you were someone else.

Woah! Linz, social media guy says sorry! Thought had Twitter set to personal account and was responding 2 similar name friend!

A few hours ago Lindsay Goldner tweeted the Pantages asking if they had any extra tickets to the Book of Mormon. This is an absurd request and Lindsay knows it, but you can’t win if you don’t bet. A good social media manager (actually a mediocre one too) would reply back with someone witty like, “I wish I did I’d totally invite you and all your friends” or even “Nope, sorry but if you manage to score a ticket I’ll buy you some Red Vines at intermission.” Instead this happened.

 

Of course it should have ended there but when you’re digging a hole you might as well dig it deep enough to hide the bodies, right?

Of course I hopped on the phone with Lindsay after I saw this because I had seen the Book of Mormon with her on opening night at the Pantages. As a complete aside I found it to be long and unfunny. I sat in my seat feeling uncomfortable that a musical was mocking a group of sincere people and slept through the second half. Yes, I just defended Mormons. That was weird.

In any event Lindsay and I were on the phone and she was talking about how much she loves musical theater and how she has been to a zillion shows at the Pantages and this made her feel horrible about ever going there again.

That is incredibly sad. This girl loves musical theater (I don’t…).

Eventually there was a non-apology and sometimes I wonder if a non-apology is worse than no apology at all.

What should the Pantages Theater have done? Obviously it’s late for Lindsay, but pretend you’re the social media manager, how do you fix this?

 

EDIT:

This tweet was sent minutes after the tweets to Linsday were sent. It demonstrates that it was unlikely that the the Panatages tweeter thought he was on a personal account.

 

An Indulgent Day

01.17.12

Who doesn’t love a three day weekend? I had little to do these last three days with the exception of one very important audition yesterday. Yes, I said it, an audition for a radtastic docuseries that I can’t tell you anything about because I don’t know anything about it except that I want to host it and they should want me to host it too because… because I said so.

Of course it went well because all Hollywood meetings go well. Everyone loves you and is sweet and wonderful and kind because they want you to not look like holy hell on camera. I loved the casting director. He was the opposite of of what a casting director usually is. There were no scented candles and I didn’t offer to shake his hand (because everyone knows you never actually touch a casting director). When he put out his hand to shake mine I almost went Big Love and asked him to marry me and Mr. G. I was flattered.

After the audition we dropped Jane off for a little shopping at The Grove and then Mr. G and I took Alexander to lunch at the Laurel Tavern, which has one of my favorite salads and the worlds worst ambience. People were wearing heavy coats indoors, but no one who worked there thought to close the windows.

We ran through Sports Authority on the way home so that I could get a watch for running (I’m back to running, but oh so slowly). I think I’ll return the watch because a $5 iPhone app seems to be doing a better job for me.

When we got home at 2 I was totally emotionally drained. Alexander had three boys waiting at the front door for him and an afternoon of playing outside. I went upstairs to the big white chair in my bedroom to close my eyes for a half hour. It was a treat that I knew I would enjoy.

For two hours I slept lightly waking often to the sounds of my son’s laughter. I can hear his laugh over the laugh of the other three boys. He’s mine, and I know his particular sound, it’s a song in my heart.

I laid on my oversized chair dozing with my dog and being serenaded by the song of my son’s joy.

It was one of those afternoons when I knew that my life is, in fact, perfect.

Just Another Morning Where I Present an Emmy

10.13.11

It’s been a little bit challenging around here lately. Ever since the arrest of one of the local moms I’ve been given the silent treatment by a mutual friend. The feedback I get is, “you don’t need her anyhow”. But the reality is that I do and it’s a loss.

I’m not even mad at her because the Grifter Mom is such a talented con artist that I’m not sure I wouldn’t believe her if I was in another woman’s shoes. Fortunately I’m the mom that spent a hour on the phone with a police officer who gave me the details of the nine most recent felonies. I can’t unhear those things and I’m a lot less gullible than I was just a few months ago.

In addition to feeling like an asshole for believing a liar I feel a little lonely being shunned by the folks who were sucked into her world. Which is why I was so happy when Mr. G. came home from work with a giant box. I assumed he had a gift for me (shut up you might have thought so too). In reality he had something better than a gift for me.

“What’s in the box?” I asked him.

“An Emmy.” He said, sitting down to remove his shoes.

“Oh how fun, can we open it?” I asked, knowing that my husband has won several Emmys but since I never go to his office I haven’t actually seen one in real life.

“No, it’s for Loren.” He began, “Do you think you can give it to him or Anna tomorrow?” And then I danced around the house a little bit because I was going to get to deliver an Emmy.

I made a move to my iPhone so I could text Anna and make a plan and to say “OMG this is Loren’s first Emmy and I know there are going to be so many more because he’s SO INCREDIBLY TALENTED….” but I was interrupted by Mr. G. telling me that Loren didn’t know he’d won. So I texted Anna that I needed to see her in the morning and told the kids the fabulous secret, because everyone knows that kids can keep secrets, right? Anna and I would meet behind the school after dropping them off and I would bring her something.

This morning I got out of the car to bring Anna the giant box and she said, “Now I’m so curious what this is.” I told her it was something wonderful. She asked if it was from me or from Mr. G., I said it was from him. He face lit up, “Is it something from the Steelers?”

“It’s that awesome.”

Fifteen minutes later Anna texted me:

Wait. Is this real?

I swear I was so incredibly happy when Anna tweeted this.

2010 emmy award

This morning I was an Emmy Presenter. What did you do?

Sidecar Jazz

10.3.11

This is our friend Korei Mal on drums. Enjoy.

Exploring Social Media: Viper

09.29.09

I don’t have a name for what is happening here online, I do know that strangers are coming together to form friendships and within the bounds of these friendships, actions are taken. I met Melissa once in Chicago and it was like finding your friend you’d been searching the world for. I didn’t need more of her than just those moments, nor she I. Melissa was recently in town for a taping of Dr. Phil so the kids and I met her for a quick dinner at Hollywood and Highland.

In keeping with it being Hollywood, I met Bob Saget on my way to Melissa and later we were both greeted by a delinquent smoking a joint in the hallway of the Raddsion. I had the children avert their eyes, “clove cigarettes” we explained to them.

We had dinner and took a brief walk on Hollywood Boulevard. “Oh my gosh Melissa, I know her.” I grasped Melissa’s forearm. She looked at me and I continued, “Melissa, I know her from Mark Hovarth’s videos. I know about her dog and her catheter, and her need to see her family. I know her three wishes.”

Standing on Hollywood Boulvard, buying my children toys they don’t need (and may or may not want) I grabbed my friend’s sleeve and whisper again, “I know her.”

But I don’t do anything, because just as quickly as she appeared, she disappears again. My middle class guilt has me gasping for breath.

Mark made Viper visible.