The Account Process

Accounts are messages designed to repair the damage people do to each other (Knapp, Stafford, & Daly, 1987). Simple accounts work for situations in which the hurt was minor. In more serious situations more complex versions of accounts are usually needed to help reduce anger and prevent aggression by the victim (Ohbuchi, Kameda, & Agarie, 1989).

The account process is rather consistent. According to Schonbach (1990), the account process includes four basic steps. The first step is the transgression or failure event in which a person is judged to be responsible for a negative, reproachable behavior. During the second step, reproach, the offended person may react from being slightly miffed to being extremely upset; the degree of reproach a person presents reflects the intensity of the reaction to the failure event. But when reproaching others, a person must also consider that the strength of the reproach can influence the offender’s reaction. People are more likely to pro­vide accounts when the offended person responds assertively rather than aggres­sively and constructively rather than destructively (Exline, Deshea, & Holeman, 2007).

The third step occurs when the offender provides an account. As we elaborate, you can offer various kinds of accounts. In the final step, the offended person evaluates the account and reaches conclusions about the event, the person, and the account. This evaluation may lead to the end of the conflict through accept­ance of the account, or it may lead to escalation of the conflict because the person rejects the account (Schonbach, 1990). Schonbach noted that such escalations of conflict likely involve issues related to identity management and self-presentation, because the discussion topic can change from why a failure event occurred to why the person’s account is not believable (“You don’t believe there was an accident on the freeway? Are you calling me a liar?”).

Types of Accounts

Because all transgressions are not the same, they cannot all be explained in the same way. According to McLaughlin, Cody, and French (1990), types ofaccounts include excuse, justification, refusal, silence, concession, and apology. If a person structures an effective account but chooses the wrong type, the offended person could still reject the account. For illustration purposes, we will use the following failure event: a student does not submit the term paper by the deadline and does not want to be punished. Consider the various accounts available.

First, you can offer an excuse. Using an excuse, you admit that the event occurred and admit it was harmful, but you deny responsibility for the event. That is, some other “force” brought about the event, not you. The purpose of this type of account is to put distance between yourself and the event. The most common excuse involves illness in the family. And although we realize that trag­edies sometime happen at the most inopportune times, it amazes us how many grandparents die the last week of class. Or the computer crashed and “ate the paper.” Or the alarm clock broke, so you slept in too late to finish the paper. Or nature called, so you had to go for a hike. The point is you try to persuade the other person that you should not be held responsible for the failure event (and you add that you really are an “A” student, so the excuse is legitimate). If the excuse offered isn’t believable, doesn’t indicate that behavior in the future will be different, or doesn’t convey respect for the offended person, the outcome of offering the account can be negative. The offended person may refuse to accept the excuse or make unfavorable judgments about the person (Tyler & Feldman, 2007).

Using a justification allows a person to accept responsibility but deny that what happened was serious or unwarranted. The person wants to downplay the seri­ousness ofwhat happened or that the consequences are in fact better when exam­ined more carefully.

A refusal challenges the accuser’s right to ask for an account, refuses to offer an explanation, denies the event occurred, or denies involvement (Schonbach, 1990). For example, you might tell your instructor that you are surprised to be questioned about turning in a late paper, or that you had in fact submitted the paper on time and that the instructor lost it. In a related manner, silence simply allows the person to avoid talking about what happened (e.g., when asked why the paper is late, you look down and say nothing).

Fourth, you could offer a concession, which would mean that you simply admit you turned in the paper late (“Yes, I know it is late”). Use of a concession allows a person to admit doing something that may have offended the other person, but it fails to include specific statements about what occurred that convey regret and responsibility. Although concessions are not complete, they can in many situa­tions, especially ones in which the offense was not serious, inhibit aggression in the offended partner (Ohbuchi et al., 1989).

Finally, you could use an apology. When people know that they have hurt others and that they are responsible for their behavior, they should choose an apology to explain their behavior. Not all apologies are the same. They range from rather simple to much more complex; the type should match the seriousness of the behavior. For example, for a minor offense for which you are responsible, you may choose a simple apology that includes the first three parts of an apol­ogy: (1) a statement of the intent to apologize, (2) expression of remorse, and (3) some offer of restitution or compensation (“I know the paper is late, and I want to apologize.

The more severe the event and the more clearly a person is responsible for it, the more s/he should choose a more complex apology and include all parts of an apology. In addition to the first three parts listed above, a complete apology includes (4) statements indicating understanding of the negativity of the behavior and (5) requests for forgiveness. Apologies with these multiple parts are more likely to include what the offended person wants and needs to hear; the content of the apology affects how well it will work (Fehr & Gelfand, 2010). To illustrate this, we need to change the example: If you purposely lie by omission to your partner, your apology might sound like this: “I didn’t tell you about my date with my ex­boyfriend. I am sorry, really. I know that trust is critical to our relationship, and I jeopardized that trust. I plan to show you every day how important you are to me. Please forgive me for not telling you.” Of course, your own words and their exe­cution would be different (no doubt including some interruptions by the partner).

But simply saying the right words is insufficient; for any type of apology to be viewed as sincere, the person must appear to be repentant, seem to need no further punishment, and appear to be worthy of forgiveness (Schlenker & Barby, 1981). When you understand the five parts of a full apology, you quickly realize that the words “I apologize” (or “Sorry” or “My Bad”) do not constitute any­thing more than a perfunctory apology, one that would be appropriate only for a very minor offense and one for which you hold only very limited responsibility (e.g., bumping into someone walking across campus). These brief words may be the beginning of an apology for a more serious offense, but if nothing else fol­lows, you have provided a pseudo-apology—especially if the words lack sincerity Consider how, after a squabble between siblings, a parent may demand that the two apologize to each other. Each sibling looks at the floor and mutters “I’m sorry” with no real feeling in an attempt to satisfy the parent and escape from the situation.

Sometimes pseudo-apologies go further as they attempt to sound like real apolo­gies. People will provide a statement that is designed to sound like an apology but is really nothing of the kind. When people want to avoid responsibility for their behavior but realize they need somehow to extricate themselves from a situation in which someone has demanded an account, they might say something like, “I’m sorry you feel that way,” or “Wow, I certainly didn’t intend for you to be hurt by what I said, and I apologize if you were,” which really translates into “I refuse to accept responsibility in a civil manner.”

Because each type of account serves a different purpose, the types of account people choose to explain their behavior can affect the response they receive from the people they have offended and how these people view them (McLaughlin et al., 1990). In interpersonal relationships, the preferred account is an apology. When people hurt us, we want them to account for their behavior in a way that conveys their remorse and restores our sense of self and value. An apology tells us that the person regrets what happened and indicates that the behavior is less likely to occur again. Apologies allow people to engage in strategic self-presentation and to explain that their behavior in this particular situation does not represent who they are overall (Schlenker & Weigold, 1989).

From a strategic conflict orientation, sincere apologies are a smart bet. Apolo­gies usually provide a more favorable impression of the offender and less intense aggression in the receiver (Ohbuchi et al., 1989). Schlenker and Darby (1981) noted that when people apologize, they minimize the negative consequences of their behavior.

People might hold an irrational belief that apologies actually make them appear weaker.

An excuse is the next most desired type of explanation in interpersonal situa­tions, if it is isolated. An excuse may not accept responsibility, but it still admits what happened; and in some situations the person really isn’t responsible; external factors influenced the events (the electricity really did go out through no fault of the student who misses an exam). However, people do not like to hear excuses from someone who gives multiple excuses (e.g., “Sorry I was late again, but there was a lot of traffic/I could not find a parking space/My alarm didn’t go off/My pet is sick/My mind is blank”). Based on the attribution principle of consist­ency (Chapter 9), we have derived a formula for the effectiveness of any given excuse:

Excuse Effectiveness = Plausibility * 1/N²

That is, your success in persuading other people that you should not be held accountable for your poor performance is equal to (1) the plausibility of the story, which is multiplied by (2) the inverse of the number of times that the victim has seen you use an apology in the past, which is (3) squared. So all other things being equal, the first time you offer an excuse to someone its effectiveness equals its plausibility (effectiveness = plausibility * 1/1²). The second time you give an excuse to that person, the plausibility of the excuse is multiplied by 1/2² (or.25), which reduces its total effectiveness by 75%. The third time you give an excuse, its plausibility is multiplied by 1/3² (.111), which reduces its total effectiveness by 89%, and so forth. In brief, we do not believe excuses from people who have a history of making excuses.

Here is a true story: A former student, “Trevor,” asked for an incomplete (i.e., a grade that allows a student to finish after the term without penalty) because his grandmother had died the last week of the fall term; and so Dan gave him an incomplete. Trevor returned the winter term in a different course but then needed an incomplete again because his other grandmother had died. Dan is skep­tical but gives the incomplete. But the outermost region of plausibility is breeched when during the spring term Trevor announces that his other grandmother had died. To our knowledge, people only have two grandmothers (nothing was said about a “step-grandmother”). And so, Dan finally was able to fail Trevor—a small price to pay for killing more than his share of grandmothers.

People are less pleased to hear a justification if, even though the person takes responsibility, she or he downplays the consequences of their behavior. It appears that our feelings are diminished when someone offers a justification (“It’s not that big of a deal, it was only a kiss from my ex-boyfriend!”).

Of course, we don’t want to hear a refusal or silence when we believe some­one has failed or transgressed against us. The failure is only intensified when the person we hold responsible denies our right to ask for an explanation for what happened (“You have no right to ask what happened between us,” “That is a reaction I will not dignify with a response”). When we have been hurt, we want the other person to acknowledge our feelings and explain the transgression in a way that helps us understand and move on.

Consider how conflict itself provides opportunities for failure. Imagine that you and a friend get into a conflict about money that you owe, and at some point tempers fray. Your friend tells you that you are “selfish,” “self-righteous,” and “ignorant.” You are very hurt by these remarks and storm out of the apartment. Later, you talk to your friend about those remarks. How would you react to each of these accounts?

1. Silence—Your friend gives you a quizzical look and walks into another room.

2. Refusal—“I don’t owe you an explanation. I simply responded to the com­ments you made. Let it go.”

3. Justification—“Yeah, I know I said those things but they’re only words. No harm, no foul. We’re still close, right, or you wouldn’t be here talking to me about this now. Let’s just put it behind us.”

4. Excuse—“I said some things I shouldn’t have. But I have been under a lot of stress lately because of work and school, plus I haven’t gotten much sleep for the last week.”

5. Apology—“I am so sorry for those comments I made about your being selfish and so on. I can’t believe I said those things. You know I don’t think about you that way. I wish I could take away the hurt I caused, but I know I can’t. Please know that in the future I will guard as carefully as I can against saying such hurtful things to you.”

The type of account isn’t all that influences our response. When someone provides an account, we make attributions to determine the credibility of those explanations (Chapter 9). If someone provides an account for their failure that reflects internal, stable, controllable, and consistent causes, we would probably be less inclined to forgive the person because the person could have chosen to act differently (“I know the paper is late, but I had a chance to go to Las Vegas for the week and I couldn’t pass that up”). We might also think that the behav­ior is likely to occur again. If, on the other hand, the explanation conveys that the hurtful behavior was external, unstable, uncontrollable, and inconsistent, we might more readily conclude that the person didn’t make a conscious choice to fail us (“I know the paper is late, but someone broke into my house and stole my laptop”).