I have to start this book with a painful story. My team, the Phoenix Suns, had just lost in the 6th game of the second round of the 2023 NBA playoffs to the Denver Nuggets. Losing is part of the game.
However, when the Suns' star player, Devin Booker was asked later at the press conference what happened — why had they lost — he replied: "Putting it in context will sound like an excuse."
I didn't want to hear that. I wanted to hear something different. I was thinking: "Hey Devin! Tell me why you guys didn't win!" — so I could hear what the team failed at, what they'd do better, who wasn't performing. Instead, Booker was intelligent and strong enough not to talk that way. Of course, he did speak honestly about the tactics and strategies and his feelings about what happened in the game — that's his job at the press conference. But he refused to make excuses. This was radically different.
I realized that what I was wanting to hear at the start was based on my expectation of what I hear most times following failure — or even small errors or mistakes. In fact, I'd contend we're all used to hearing excuses and we've all been trained to expect them. I was left with more respect for Booker and an expectation that, if it was possible, the future would improve.
So that's what this book is about. What would your world be like if we eliminate excuses? What alternatives do we have, and how would that look? It's about your life, individually — it doesn't require a press conference. I will warn you ahead of time: it's a radical idea. We are all conditioned into subtle and not-so-subtle uses of excuses. You may think you aren't using them — but keep reading. So don't make an excuse to put this book down now. Let's get started.
If you visit West Point, the United States Military Academy, there are only four acceptable responses for a cadet:
So how can this be possible? Wouldn't you have to — sometimes — tell them a reason you were late? "Sir, the kitchen was slow, and it took longer to get our food." Or "Ma'am, the instructor let us out late." Maybe…or is it?
In this book we're going to discover how these "reasons" are really by definition excuses — and how they, in most if not all cases, aren't necessary and instead damage relationships. Yet why are we almost all compelled to use them? We'll further find out how it's in our best interests to stop using excuses and what to do instead. Here's a promise: when you do this, not only is it fun but it can change your relationships and your life.
A phrase that I hear — and I bet you do too — is: "Well, I'm not making excuses, but…" Then, whatever comes after that phrase is a reason that is also an excuse. 100% of the time.
I keep using late excuses because that seems to be the most common application. "I'm not making excuses, but…" — whatever comes next is always an excuse. The dictionary definition of an excuse is: a reason or explanation put forward to defend or justify a fault or offense. In simpler terms: a reason used to justify.
When you read that definition, you might think: "I've said that before — but I have legitimately had the alarm clock battery die. I have had my friend show up late to pick me up. I did have a flat tire that time. That's not my fault." So the million-dollar question is: just because you can identify a reason, and you feel it's "legitimate," does it mean it's not an excuse?
It can be confusing because some reasons are not excuses. Consider these:
Nobody would feel like those reasons were excuses. They'd say: "Oh, that's interesting — that's great!" But an excuse is a reason something failed. If I say, "I forgot to set my alarm yesterday — that's why it didn't go off, that's why I was late" — that's an excuse. All of this is justification-of-failure language rather than accomplishment language.
The say-we-believe-these-are-all-true question: even if the alarm clock battery really did die, what is the statement really saying? It provides justification that the battery was the culprit — therefore no fault exists. The accuracy or blame doesn't change whether it's an excuse. The format of the language is what makes the difference.
When do we learn this? As soon as we're able to communicate. We train kids to become experts at excuses in a few insidious ways.
Say you're a parent with only one kid — you know who left the clothes out or made a mess or left the refrigerator door open. If the lamp's broken, and you don't have any cats or dogs, you know who broke it. What does a parent usually do? "Hey, who broke the lamp!?" The child has two options: be honest and take responsibility, or make an excuse that gets them out of trouble. Parents often have conversations like this with no escape for the child, forcing them into justification mode.
The second way parents teach us to make excuses is by modeling it. When your parents were late, they probably made the same excuses most people do. Nobody's perfect. It's unlikely they were always on time. Parents understandably don't curate all their actions, so kids learn imperfect behaviors. All we can do as parents is follow the best practices once we learn them.
If you can tell me a reason, make an excuse — does that make it better? Why do people tell others the reason they didn't achieve their goal? It's an attempt to soften the reality of letting the person and yourself down. It's a psychological attempt to get a "Get Out Of Jail Free Card."
When we make an excuse, we're betting that our excuse will be so good — or at least good enough — that the other person will validate us by accepting it. If we really do a good job, we can turn it around and get them to comfort us even though we let them down. Here's how we'd like it to work — versus what the other person actually thinks:
| The Excuse | Response We Want | What They Actually Think |
|---|---|---|
| "There was a lot of traffic on the freeway." | "Oh, that's OK." | "I came in the same way and was on time!" |
| "I'm not making excuses, but it was so-and-so's fault the report isn't done." | "I'll talk with so-and-so!" | "You're the project manager — why didn't you say this earlier?" |
| "I had a flat tire, and that's why I was late." | "I've had that happen — what a pain!" | "This isn't the first flat they've had!" |
| "I'm not making excuses, but I wasn't able to wake up early enough." | "It's ok, I'm glad you're here." | "Dude. Alarm clocks are cheap." |
| "It was my alarm clock that didn't go off and that's why I was late." | "I hate when that happens." | "Responsible people set their alarm. You must not care about me." |
So we justify and make excuses to get the response we want — to get validated even though we weren't on time, didn't meet somebody, woke up late, didn't finish the report. The key is that it's not about fault. It's about justification. And we justify to attempt to get validation and relief from mistakes and failure.
Language you use can prompt excuses or create action, solve problems, and build relationships. If you ask a kid, "Why didn't you finish your homework?" — you're asking for an excuse. "Is your homework done?" leads to action. Asking them whether it's done is relevant because you may need to know. But "why didn't you finish?" forces them to generate a justification.
Have you known people who use the same reason every single time, even though they could do something to account for it? They could account for the traffic, for the unreliable car, for the child who's slow to get up for school. Even though they're late all the time, they could figure out a way to fix it — but justifying it feels easier than solving it.
Why do we really care? If everybody uses excuses, and we train our kids to use excuses, and it's just kind of a normal thing, why does it matter? It matters for several very important reasons.
The consequence of using excuses a lot is that we get in the habit. "Why were you late?" "Well, blah, blah, blah." So now they tell us whatever the reason is. The habit replaces accountability. The person stops thinking about how to prevent the problem and starts thinking about how to explain it.
Does it matter why they're late, or might it be more important that we don't waste additional time talking about their excuse and then just get to work? Consider Jeff, your coworker, who forgets donuts on Thursday — and his explanation escalates:
After you imagine doing serious harm to Jeff — did you want to hear the excuse? Or did you just want to get the donuts? Would it have been better if Jeff just said:
What would life be like if you spent no energy justifying your own behavior or trying to explain how you weren't at fault? This doesn't mean don't apologize or commit to doing better. It means the apology and the fix are more efficient, and far more effective, than the explanation.
When I don't fulfill my agreements, don't meet expectations, or I let someone down, it makes me less trustworthy and less reliable. When this is accompanied by assigning the reason to something outside my control — instead of what I am going to do in the future to make it better — it makes me even less trustworthy and reliable.
Excuses can also worsen the relationship in other ways. Say your coworker is late, and they tell you they had a problem getting there because their child was sick. They're possibly implying you should interrupt your work for an empathetic reaction — take time to comfort them. Being empathetic is important, but was that what the relationship needed in that moment, or did the relationship need solutions?
In my martial arts school, I train the instructors to remember: "The emotions you show need to be the emotions the students need, not what you feel!" The instructors are expected — regardless of their personal feelings — to have the attitude that's right for the situation. If the students need fun, they are fun. If the students need a stern correction, they do it. They do not tell the students why their day is hard.
Professionals are consistent. Seth Godin famously wrote: "Authenticity is for amateurs." Save authenticity for your friends.
You want the professionals you visit — doctors, engineers, lawyers — to do their jobs correctly even if they had a bad day. Would you like to hear them tell you: "Sorry, I prescribed the wrong medicine because I was rushed between appointments"? Or "It wasn't my fault the bridge collapsed — they didn't remind me to double-check my calculations"? Entertainers are expected to be professional. Do you want to hear why the concert started an hour late because of traffic after you drove two hours and paid $1,000 for the tickets?
Professionals simply are expected to show up. Especially when they don't feel like it. That's what makes them a professional. Are you going to treat life like a professional?
What do you do instead of making an excuse? If you, like just about everybody, are preprogrammed to provide a reason every time something goes wrong, what should you do instead?
One foundational principle here comes from Dr. Murray Bowen's family systems theory: the idea that healthy relationships require differentiation of self. Differentiation is about slowing down and thinking before we respond. It's about less talk and less emotion. Many situations call for nothing, or a simple, sincere apology — "Sorry I am late!" — and then move on. Do you really want to hear about their traffic issues, why it took so long to drop off their kid, or why their alarm clock wasn't set? Of course not.
Let's turn this into a three-part strategy called the Non Excuse Way — the NEW Way. When you use this, you'll feel better about yourself. You won't have to justify actions anymore.
Acknowledge that the issue happened. Don't hide it or sugarcoat it. This can go with an apology, but it doesn't have to. All you have to do is acknowledge what happened. That's it.
When we show empathy, we're taking a moment to understand how the other person feels and let them know it. Empathy is defined as "the ability to understand and share the feelings of another." Your task is to let them know you understand the effect you've had on them. This never includes the excuse — empathy replaces the excuse, it doesn't ride alongside it.
There is often confusion between empathy and sympathy. Sympathy is feelings of pity for someone else's misfortune. Empathy is understanding the feeling. Watch out for sympathy statements disguised as empathy:
Empathy connects. Sympathy destroys connection.
Repair assumes there is a rupture. Not about being "at fault" — but about being active. When you repair, you're clarifying the event and reconnecting with the other person and yourself. Repair is defined as:
Examples of NOT repair:
The last step is determining whether repair is needed at all, and at what level. The circumstances — the reason or cause — can inform what action you take next. Here's where it can be appropriate to briefly address what happened — but only to build a solution, not to justify.
Showing empathy was enough. This is often the case. You're a little behind, you acknowledge it and the impact it had, and that's it.
Sometimes the main repair is just the relationship. The issue wasn't something you need to fix — it's something that impacted another person. You show consideration for the person first, not the project.
If something needs action now or in the future, add it at the end. This is where the circumstances can provide an action you're going to take. Four-time Super Bowl winning quarterback Terry Bradshaw once said:
Full NEW Way examples in action:
Note the last example: repair doesn't have to be a solution — it can be asking for help or honestly admitting you have a problem. This is completely different from justification. This is stating a problem and asking for help, or stating that it's being fixed.
We tend to be obsessed with fault — we want to assign fault to the traffic, the alarm clock, the other person — or take fault (fall on your sword) or blame others. What if fault isn't important? What if cause is?
Fault assumes someone is bad, wrong, or defective. Cause only identifies what happened and looks for solutions. Consider the situation on two axes: how much it's your responsibility (fault) and how severe the situation is.
A note on relevant repair: Repair needs to be real and connected to the problem. Flowers for forgetting the laundry, or ice cream for being late picking up your child from school — that's not repair. Repair needs to be relevant to the rupture.
In some circumstances, you do need to use an explanation because the person who got let down wants to know why. If you were late because your alarm didn't go off, and when you arrive the other person says "I was worried about you — what happened?" — it's perfectly fine to give a reason, as long as that reason doesn't deflect blame or responsibility. The difference is they asked. You didn't lead with it.
Whether you are a friend, parent, acquaintance, romantic interest, spouse, coworker, or boss — you don't need to accept excuses either. And the problem is, you may be part of the problem yourself.
Isn't it tempting, when your friend, child, spouse, or employee comes in late, to ask "Why are you late?" It's natural. But this is specifically asking for an excuse — you're asking them to give you a reason they failed. What are their options? Give you a lame reason you think is ridiculous, or give you an amazing reason that justifies their behavior. Either way, you've set up the conversation for justification, not resolution.
Also consider: do you ask this question if that person is on time 99% of the time and runs 3 minutes late once every 3 months? Of course not. You're doing it because it's either chronic or very severe. And for chronic situations, what we need is for the future behavior to be fixed — not the past explained. If you don't prompt excuses, you won't get as many.
You can stop the excuse cycle and intercept it by just asking for the three NEW Way steps yourself:
Prompt Acknowledgment: "The situation is ________, correct?" Let them respond. If they insist on giving the excuse, repeat only the effective result. "The situation is that you are 15 minutes late, is that correct?" If they still insist on the excuse, skip it and be clear on the next step.
Prompt Empathy: "I feel like ____________." Tell them how you feel. Showing empathy is a learned skill and many people are not experienced at it. After you tell them, be quiet and let them respond.
Prompt Repair (if needed): "I would suggest ____________" or "I'd like to know what you're going to do moving forward so this improves." Don't give them a laundry list — you must craft this collaboratively. If you're frustrated and you give them twelve demands, it's likely you won't be heard.
We're programmed socially to use excuses and also to engage with them. One way is by asking for them. Another is by engaging in them once we receive them. Instead, we can keep from accepting them by not asking for them — and when we're presented with them, by getting in the habit of not engaging.
The result will make you happier and more in control of your outcomes. Some people will find this jarring at first because they'll expect you to accept their excuses and be surprised that you don't. Stick with it and you'll feel great about your own integrity, confidence, and the results you'll get in relationships.
We've spent this book focusing on excuses — but there's an important related strategy: justification. We use justification when we make excuses, but there are broader ways justification can become a trap. What's the difference?
Excuse: Reasons you give yourself or others why you didn't succeed or accomplish what you wanted. Its purpose is to avoid or defer blame — happens after things go badly.
Justification: Reasons you give yourself or others to validate a decision or action — before, during, or after. Its purpose is to feel better about that choice, not just avoid blame.
Justification is a mental game we play to feel better about our decisions — whether that's a decision to do something or a decision not to do something. When it becomes a trap, it works against our greater good.
This is the story of what got me looking into justification. I was teaching a business seminar to martial arts school owners — all very successful — and the group was discussing whether to raise their prices. The conversation split cleanly into two camps:
| Justifications FOR Raising Prices | Justifications AGAINST Raising Prices |
|---|---|
| "Hockey costs a ton — why can't we?" | "Parents compare us to soccer and dance." |
| "We've got top-tier instructors and national-level ranks — expertise deserves premium pay." | "That cheaper school across town will look better." |
| "Our facility's upscale — clean, spacious, safe mats." | "I feel guilty charging more." |
| "Rising rent, utilities, and insurance mean we can't stay profitable at old prices." | "Last year's increase went poorly — people complained." |
| "We earn what we're worth; good schools in good markets do this all the time." | "Our area doesn't support more expensive things — our people are broke." |
What did they figure out? Exactly nothing. The confident ones had all the "we can do it!" justifications and the fearful ones had all the "no way that'd work" justifications. It wasn't based on data or research — it was based on emotion. It is a delusion that we are using logic and rational decision making.
We all justify to some degree. This becomes a trap when it works against our greater good. Some common forms:
Confirmation bias is finding only the information that supports what we already believe or want. Did you ever see a car, a watch, or a piece of clothing you wanted really badly? When I want a new car, I am excellent at coming up with lots of reasons why it's a good idea:
The more I want the car, the more great reasons I can generate. I only see the positive. However, it's usually the best financial idea to drive a car into the ground. I never need the new car. It's my emotion that clouds my so-called logic.
Negativity bias is overvaluing what could go wrong and undervaluing potential success. This is built into our DNA. In hunter-gatherer days, if you saw the most beautiful mountain waterfall imaginable but were simultaneously being chased by a tiger — you'd better run. It's safer to expect more negative outcomes when situations are often life or death.
Even though the vast majority of our modern situations aren't life or death, we maintain this built-in bias. The same person who had all the "reasons to buy" in the confirmation bias example can flip and generate an equally compelling list of reasons not to buy:
The more anxiety about the car, the more great reasons not to buy it. Same facts, same car — opposite conclusion driven by emotion.
Famously, in a letter in 1772, Ben Franklin wrote to Joseph Priestley outlining the "pro and con" list as a decision-making tool. You take a piece of paper, list two columns, and it logically determines the best decision to make.
That'd all be fine if our lists were based on objective logic — not on one of these biases. When we want something or are anxious about something, we perceive the weight of the pros or cons based on our emotional state. The pro/con list just doesn't work the way Franklin intended, because the person making the list is not objective.
When you're deciding on something, the key is knowing whether you are:
Gathering data is when you are clarifying, getting new information, or doing research. In the car example, this means comparing different models, finding the best deals, figuring out your budget, test-driving a few cars. When you gather data, you're open to the possibility of different outcomes. When you justify, you've already decided — you're just building the argument.
Justification has its place. You may just need to help yourself feel better when making a tough decision. The point here is to know the difference between justification, bias, and gathering data. If you know this, you can keep yourself from not doing something that's a great idea, from doing things recklessly, or from being stuck in "analysis paralysis" where your anxiety and desire both conspire to keep you frozen. The awareness is the tool.
Simply put, excuses are any reasons we give for not accomplishing something. I get it — you could be driving to an appointment, and a truck catches on fire on the freeway. You get sick the day of your spaceflight. A llama could eat your homework. Sometimes stuff just happens. I'm not denying that real things do happen that affect you.
The problem is that using even these as excuses may not work for us or for our relationships. How would things change if we didn't expect or accept excuses?
If you're a parent, that may really go for you. If your kid did something wrong, does the reason matter? Do we want to wallow in the excuse, or do we want to work on what we're going to do to move forward and improve? Rather than "Why didn't you do it right?" — which trains making excuses — let's say "How are we going to make this better?"
Here's a story from John Rossman's book Think Like Amazon:
Steve Jobs told employees a short story when they were promoted to vice president at Apple. Jobs would tell the VP that if the garbage in his office was not being emptied, Jobs would naturally demand an explanation from the janitor. "Well, the lock on the door was changed," the janitor could reasonably respond, "and I couldn't get a key." The janitor can't do his job without a key. As a janitor, he's allowed to have excuses.
"When you're the janitor, reasons matter," Jobs told his newly-minted VPs. "Somewhere between the janitor and the CEO, reasons stop mattering."
In other words, when an employee becomes a vice president, they must vacate all excuses for failure. A vice president is responsible for any mistakes that happen, regardless of what they say.
The janitor is allowed to have excuses. The VP isn't. You don't have to want to be a top executive at a big tech company — but I'd ask the question: Do you want to be the janitor or the VP?
Here's a selection of real excuses — sourced from Reader's Digest Australia, Reader's Digest Asia, rd.com (excuses for calling out of work), rd.com (lamest excuses ever uttered), and BuzzFeed via Yahoo Life. Enjoy.
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