Saying sorry has become a kind of currency, and everyone wants their full money’s worth of an apology. I recall learning in school that money is relatively scarce—but apparently that principle does not apply to the word sorry.

“Sorry, can you shift a bit?”
“Sorry, excuse me.”                                                “Why you still de vex sister. I don tell you sorry na”
“Sorry, it wasn’t my fault, it was the devil."

These days, I can’t even walk past a stranger without hearing “sorry,” simply because our clothes brushed for half a second. People say it’s politeness. I say the word has been watered down so much it’s practically excess  palm oil inside a pot of stew—just floating, adding color.

Yet, we still get offended when consequences show up after an apology. Why? What exactly did you think would happen? You came late for an interview and assumed one tiny “sorry” was going to open the gates of employment like abracadabra?
Take me, for example. I apologized to my wife yesterday forgetting I had promise to take her out for dinner. I still ended up sleeping in the guest room.

“It’s okay, babe,” she said. “But a night alone might help you remember next time.”
Tell me why my own sorry didn’t save me from cold pillow punishment.

Honestly, be like Tolu. She doesn’t care whose father is involved—she apologizes when she means it. And when she does, you know she does. She doesn’t dodge consequences; she accepts them and works her way back up like a responsible adult.
Maybe if we all borrowed a page from Tolu’s playbook, “sorry” might start meaning something again.