Getting it wrong gracefully

Always have a plan B in your back pocket

I tell people: think about the why, but also have a plan B in your back pocket — if I upset someone or get it wrong, what's my response? Because you will, at some point, get it wrong. The people who navigate it well aren't the ones who never slip; they're the ones who've already decided, in advance, that a slip is survivable and that they know what to do next. That decision takes the panic out of the moment before it arrives.

The repair model

When something does go wrong, this is the sequence I teach — five small steps that keep the repair proportionate:

• 1. Notice it. Catch the slip, or hear the feedback, without bracing for attack.
• 2. Acknowledge it. A brief, genuine acknowledgement of the impact — not a denial, not a defence.
• 3. Correct it. Use the right word, stop the behaviour, fix the immediate thing.
• 4. Move on appropriately. Don't linger. Returning quickly to the conversation is part of the respect.
• 5. Reflect later if needed. If it's worth understanding why it happened, do that afterwards — privately, not in the moment.

In a live, in-the-moment slip — say you use the wrong pronoun — that whole model can be one breath: "…she — sorry, they — was saying…" and you carry on. The correction is the apology. You don't need to stop the meeting.

Why over-apologising backfires

This is the part people get wrong most often, usually with the best intentions. A long, repeated apology feels caring — but it quietly recentres the moment on you: your guilt, your discomfort, your need to be seen doing the right thing. I've watched a well-meaning manager turn a single pronoun slip into a spiral — "oh my goodness, I'm so sorry, I've done it again, I really need to respect that you're non-binary…" — and the effect is the opposite of what they intended. It highlights the other person's difference, makes them othered, and forces them to manage your feelings on top of their own.

So a short correction isn't you being casual about it. It's you being respectful. Brevity keeps the spotlight where it belongs — on the conversation and the person — rather than on your performance of remorse.

The "boots and sandals" lesson: do's and don'ts

I use a little story — a heavy boot accidentally stepping on a light sandal's toes — to show how the same mistake can go two very different ways. The boot didn't mean to cause harm. But the harm is real, and what happens next is everything.

The unhelpful reactions are all forms of dodging accountability:

• Centring yourself — "I can't believe you think I'm a toe-stepper, I'm a good person." Now it's about your character, not their pain.
• Denying their experience — "I don't mind when people step on my toes." Your tolerance isn't theirs.
• Derailing / "all toes matter" — shifting to a general point to avoid the specific harm in front of you.
• Tone policing — "I'd move if you asked more nicely." Criticising how someone expresses pain instead of addressing the pain.
• Withdrawing — "fine, I'll just go home." Walking off when challenged abandons the repair entirely.

The graceful version is short and complete: "Are you OK? I'm sorry — I'll move my foot right away. From now on I'll be more careful where I step." Centre the person, listen, apologise for the impact even though it was unintentional, stop the instance, and stop the pattern. That's accountability — calm, proportionate, done.

Good intent, real impact, calm accountability

Underpinning all of this is intent → impact → accountability. Good intent does not erase poor impact — so "I didn't mean it" can't be the whole response. But poor impact does not make you a bad person either — so you don't need to collapse into shame. Accountability is the bridge: acknowledge, correct, commit, move on. That's a standard anyone can meet, on a normal day, without drama.

And remember the wider principle from the leaning in, not leaning away guide: the fear of getting it wrong makes people withdraw, and withdrawal reads as exclusion. Knowing you can repair well is exactly what frees you to lean in.

Handling other people's slip-ups too

The same calm proportion applies when you're the one noticing someone else's misstep. The goal is to call people in, not out — a brief, low-drama nudge that lets them update without being humiliated. Not every mistake needs escalation; not every slip needs a big conversation. Match the response to the moment. For the harder versions of these exchanges, see courageous conversations at work.

For the words themselves, the guide on pronouns & inclusive language at work is the natural companion to this one, and you can read the bigger picture in why inclusive language matters.