My junior year of college, I bought a used computer for $100. It was cheap because the thing was as huge as it was heavy. The challenge was to walk with this cumbersome piece of technology across campus to my dorm. I was finally to the steps of Holy Cross Hall when I tripped and fell flat on my face.
Did I issue a four-letter word?
Of course not.
To the student who was on the stairs staring at me.
“Why are you apologizing to me?” She asked.
“Because … I’m an adult child of an alcoholic?”
I always think about this story as I prepare my apology for, say, breathing, eating, sneezing, sleeping, talking, existing.
I desperately want everyone’s approval, not excluding the Fed Ex guy, the bank teller, the barista, the technical support person for GoDaddy.com.