This middle age man swaggers past me on Corio Street. “Excuse me miss, can I bot a ciggie?”
His low hung jeans and baseball cap tilted to the side are clearly borrowed from, what I assume, is his son’s bedroom floor.
“I don’t smoke, sorry,” I reply. Sorry? Why am I sorry? I’m proud that I’ve never taken that nicotine death stick, placed it between my lips and inhaled years off my life.
Why do we use the word “Sorry” so flippantly? We apologise. We pardon ourselves. We disclaimer our right to say “No”, with a soft landing.
“Have you seen the stapler?” “No, sorry.” Sorry? I didn’t use the stapler. I’m not responsible for the stapler. I didn’t kidnap the stapler and now have Liam Neeson tracking me down to reunite the stapler with its father.
We live in such fear that we are going to offend the person next to us that we take responsibility for all actions. Our actions and the actions of others.
We are so self-conscious about leaving a positive impression with everyone we meet that we defend our statements with a warning. “We mean no harm”. We aren’t greeting a new life form. Not knowing the whereabouts of that stapler will not have you unfriended on Facebook.
Can we go back to the use of the word “bot” for a moment. When I was four years old, it was endearing. You’d say bot bot for your arse and it would be cute. When you want to “bot a ciggie” I imagine you smoking a butt crack.
So I ask you. Spend 24 hours not apologising.
I mean, if you back into someone’s car in the Belmont Village Shopping Centre carpark, apologise. Or if you spill red wine on your boss’s white lounge, apologise. And offer to have it steam cleaned. Maybe offer a fluffy pillow and a throw rug in the meantime. Just don’t say sorry for the things that are out of your control.
When you go to reply to someone’s question, take a deep breath and reply without the disclaimer.
It’s hard. Really hard. But guess what, you can be polite AND not have the answer. When you are asked a question and the answer is no, say no. Full stop. No is as acceptable as the word yes and does not need to be wrapped in cotton wool.
I still don’t know where the stapler is. By now, I’m speculating it’s in witness protection. It’s seen something it can’t unseen and for its own safety its living with a new identity in Switzerland.
Free yourself of the negative. You have done nothing wrong. You do not have to apologise for who you are and what you do with your life. Unless you took the stapler.
Words by Stampsy, the Music Director and Drive Announcer at K Rock in Geelong
Follow the inner workings of a Stamp online – Facebook, Instagram and Twitter @only1stampsy
