Is It Worth Keeping Your Word in a World of Flakery?

Chronic commitment misjudgement is leading me wonder if it's time to join the flakes and start reneging on all those promises...

I’ve written this piece today as it’s what I said I would do when I bid you adieu for my summer holiday to France. Midway through the week, I realised the error of my aforementioned promise and chastised myself for my chronic commitment misjudgement.  You see, to keep my vow to my family, I spent the week off the laptop. There was none of my usual sloping off to ‘the loo’ or ‘the shower’ to knock out a few paras. Instead, I was fully present for the good, the bad and the ugly of three generations living under one roof. Well done, pat on the back. However, that presence has meant that I am now writing in bed at 11pm after being wedged between two car seats during a ten-hour car journey, blistered by bouchons (the French word for both corks and traffic jams) and suffering a serious bout of adrenal fatigue after several near-death collisions en route.  There were points when I was reflex-shielding my children from potential mortality, so let’s just say right now is not exactly an optimum work window.

But here we are. The piece wrote itself out of exasperation. It does not take a rocket scientist to work out that the logistics for this piece were not going to work well. For sure, we all have work commitments, and to many of you who have paid good money to support this platform, I owe you the quality content you were promised. But I’m pretty sure that the vast majority would probably have given me the grace of a two-week holiday with the kids in tow. It’s not a wild sabbatical, just a normal amount of time for school holiday R&R (riding it out while remaining in contact with my sanity). But I obviously decided that instead, I would metaphorically kneecap myself. Why do we do this? It’s a kind of self-sabotage. “A lot of people overestimate their abilities,’ observes Steven Berglas, a psychotherapist and author of Your Own Worst Enemy: Understanding the Paradox of Self-Defeating Behaviour. “They overburden themselves,” he goes on to explain, “and don’t leave time to be prepared for critical tasks so they fail. It’s self-handicapping behaviour.” Quite.

In this case, however, the issue was two-fold. Firstly, it’s the overcommitment. But secondly, I just cannot allow myself to fail or let anyone down, so there is this heart crushing pressure to be reliable and keep my side of any bargain—even if there isn’t really any other side, really any other consequences. Even if no one else cares and I’m basically making some kind of professional or social pact with just, ahem myself in my mind—holding myself to standards that no-one ever asked of me. 

By no means am I saying that I’ve never once in this life flaked. There have been times in my 20 years of attending five events a week that I haven’t been able to make something, for example. But, because I find it excruciating to go back on my word, I’ve made it to 95% or more of the things I’ve said I would. If I say I’m going to a breakfast, lunch or dinner, I will go. I may, on occasion, be late due to childcare juggling or it taking 147 minutes from Chiswick, but I will come and I will have my face on. I will come if it causes an argument with my boyfriend; I will come even if a new deadline gets put in and going to said event means I’ll be up with the birds to fit it all in. Reneging on what I deem to be my responsibility when I have promised something counts as one of my top three worst situations along with walking in stilettos missing a heel cap and realising one of my chin mole hairs is at least 8mm long after having a long conversation with someone I believe to be seriously attractive. Hell incarnate. 

Putting these two sides of the same coin together often inadvertently and perhaps ironically, leads me to let the most important people in my life down. I do know that colleagues and friends alike think I’m a brick and generally know I bust a gut to make things happen. But for those close to me, who from time to time are left picking up pieces of debris in the wake of my ‘commitments’, the picture is not as pretty. Recently, as I’ve been weighing it up, I’ve started to wonder if my stalwart pledges are worth the investment. Does it mean enough to other people for the turmoil I create for myself and others close to me? Should you really torture yourself to keep your word?

I’ve always loved those lists of what is and isn’t socially appropriate, what constitutes good etiquette and poor. As our culture has shifted towards seeking one’s best life, there’s no doubt that the idea of serving yourself first has flourished, leading to drastically different mores. For example, the very latest I would ever cancel a commitment (be it a work meeting or drinks with friends at the pub) would be the night before, outside of truly unforeseen circumstances. However, the much-covered guide to modern manners via New York magazine published earlier this year, suggests you can cancel up to 2pm on the day of. Two PM! Though that does seem more on par with what I’ve experienced when hosting events, where guests have cancelled all the way up to an hour or so before a dinner. Some have just literally not turned up with no apology to follow. Covid had its impact, but the general drift towards flakery was well on its way long before. When I mention etiquette, just to be clear, I’m not banging on about some kind of Debrett’s class manual. Just more or less what people in your city find acceptable. I’ve got a lot of friends in L.A. otherwise known as raincheck city who accept flakery as par for the course, but here in London, there is generally still a level of responsibility attached to making a commitment, though it seems it’s becoming more of an opt in and out thing. Perhaps it’s time to start considering my opts.

Obviously, this piece I’m writing is being written in a broad work context—while the vast majority of you are reading for free, building this platform is part of my portfolio career. My ‘job’ blurs nearly every element of work-home life, as everything I do ‘off-duty’ has on-duty applications and a lot of my on-duty hours could easily be perceived as being engaged in off-duty activities. However, even if you have a clear delineation between office and home life, flaky behaviour can be catching. One day you’re last-minute cancelling drinks with your sister-in-law, the next you’re ignoring slack messages and ditching that EOD deck deadline. This is because the impulse to flake can come from the same source, no matter the context. Whether it’s lack of organisation, overly optimistic ideas about what is achievable in a time frame (it me), avoidance, low self-confidence, procrastination or indecision, flakiness doesn’t necessarily come from a place of self-centredness (although that can of course be a factor too). Regardless of where the behaviour originates from, over promising and underdelivering is the kiss of death for pretty much every relationship and there is no question that being professionally Flaky Flakerson is a career derailer. 

For me personally, if I’m being totally honest, taking on too much isn’t really a case of people pleasing, or feeling I can’t say no. Part of it, for sure, is never wanting to turn down anything which might contribute to my family’s financial future—be it here on Substack, at a brand lunch, a casual work meeting, an exhibition, a book launch….Every punt is worth the shot after all. But mostly, it’s that my eyes are bigger than my stomach when it comes to experience. As someone who is curious, bores easily and loves both company and challenges, I bite off more than I can chew because I’m greedy. Greedy for connection, for conversation, for building as big a life as possible, with fingers in every pie. Greedy to squeeze out every last bit. While this serves me and allows me to live my best life, it can be just as selfish as those people who flake without apology. Clearly there is no moral high ground to be taken here, because while cancelling last minute is generally poor form, committing to anything which you don't have the bandwidth to manage is just as crappy. No matter how good the intention, someone is going to pay for the overcommitment, and usually it’s not just me. If it’s not time to start flaking, it may be the moment to put the gluttony on hold.

It’s food for thought.