SORRY, NOT SORRY

Last week, I reflected on how different cultures handle small talk. Just a day later, I was reminded of this in the most unexpectedly sweaty way: while trying to pay for a bottle of water at a convenience store:

I confidently stride into my local 7-Eleven, parched from my 37°C walk. I grab a bottle of chilled mineral water, in a bid to avert heat stroke, head to the counter and whip out my phone like a digital samurai, Apple Wallet ready. Confidence at 100%.

Me: BEEP! Wait… no beep?

I try again. I move my phone two millimetres to the left. Then to the right. I hold it higher. Lower. I practically offer it a massage.

Nothing.

The shop assistant stands silently behind the counter, perfectly still. No blink. No helpful gesture. I begin to question whether she's real or a mirage. Are these the first signs of a heat stroke?

Eventually, the reader lets out a pitiful boop and flashes "Transaction declined."

Twice.

Now I'm sweating – not from the heat (after all, it's about minus 20°C in the store), but from shame, confusion, and the growing suspicion that my phone has betrayed me in front of a witness.

Eventually, I give up and reluctantly reach for my wallet, pulling out the physical card, tap it. BEEP!

Success. I receive a subtle bow from the assistant. No words. No facial movement. Just quiet, dignified judgement. I bow back, whispering a deeply apologetic "sumimasen", and leave the shop.

As I exit with my bottle, and my pride in shreds, I’m reminded of a similar scene… in Britain just a week earlier, at a Waterstones book shop:

Me: (Taps card) No beep.

Shop assistant (instantly): “Oh dear - this machine’s got stage fright again. Maybe it had a long night!”

We both chuckle.

I try again.

Shop assistant: "I'm so sorry. She's moody sometimes, but she means well." Then: "Come on, love, you can do it." (To the machine, not me.)

Another failed beep.

Customer behind me: "The wonders of modern technology, eh?"

Shop assistant: "Really sorry about that. Let's try one more time."

I try again. BEEP!

Success. We cheer. Someone nearly starts a slow clap.

The whole thing felt like a pub sketch – full of banter, apologies, and cheerful teamwork. A minor tech hiccup turned into a community event.

I was also reminded again of the British apology reflex. "Sorry" is the most versatile word, although it doesn't always mean remorse. It can mean:

• “Excuse me”

• “I’m mildly inconveniencing you”

• “Yes, you’ve stepped on my foot, but I’ll apologise to you anyway”

• “Brace yourself, I'm about to sound assertive”

A well-placed "sorry" can de-escalate nearly anything – from a bump in the street to an international incident.

Picture this situation: You're walking along the high street when someone unexpectedly steps into your path. You both do that awkward side-step dance – left, then right, then left again. This is followed by an apology duel and possibly a cheeky comment about needing dancing lessons.

Now... Japan. While out shopping last weekend, a woman steps in front of me. No eye contact. No apology tennis. No shared joke. Her hushed "sumimasen" (excuse me) is barely audible. Then she glides away, like it never happened. I say nothing. I'm not British.

And where does Switzerland sit on all this? In the neutral middle, as you would expect. A scenario like this triggers a sequence of highly civilised steps. At first, no one says anything, because:

• There is no collision

• No one is technically wrong

• The rules of civility and spatial awareness have not been broken – just... bent.

Eventually, one of you will offer a nod, smile a little (but not too much!) and step exactly 17 cm to the side, muttering a brief "sorry", careful not to make it sound too apologetic, because that would be tantamount to admitting fault.

Sometimes the Swiss response includes a quick, firm eye-roll or a tiny sigh, but only if you're clearly in the wrong. Expect passive-aggressive precision energy, not confrontation.

As for me, I'll carry both phone and card – because when navigating checkout counters, it's wise to expect the unexpected.