Growing up in the UK, I’d never questioned the frequency of the word “sorry” in my everyday interactions. I even used to open doors for people and apologise for getting in their way as they made their way past me. Now, the idea of doing someone a favour while apologising for simply existing sounds ridiculous, but old habits die hard – particularly when nobody calls you out on them. That all changed when I moved to Germany, where I lived for four years. I studied German at university, but nothing can really prepare you for the social norms of another country until you’re fully immersed in its culture. In the depths of Bavaria, in the small town of Ingolstadt, where it’s no strange occurrence to see people doing their groceries in lederhosen, I was given a crash course in saving my breath for the things I actually meant. But saying what you mean involves unlearning what you think you are meant to say. In my new home, my British indirectness and random displays of casual penitence were met with confusion, and at times, even mild annoyance. One day, I entered the kitchen of the shared flat I was living in as my German flatmate was making her way out of the room. I was standing in her path, so I blurted out a quick Entschuldigung (sorry in German) and walked over to the kitchen sink. To my surprise, my perplexed flatmate turned to me and asked, “Why do you keep on saying sorry?” I was taken aback. Nobody had ever asked me that before. I had to stop and think to come up with an answer. Frankly, “sorry” had lost its meaning for me. It was like breathing – something I did unconsciously. “I don’t know. I don’t say it that often, do I?” I replied, somewhat defensively. A brief, kindly lecture ensued about the negative effects of saying sorry all the time. Apparently, it would have an impact on my self-esteem. I’d believe that I was at fault for things – and that would make me feel like a general nuisance, which I wasn’t. From that moment onwards, I caught myself and stopped every time I was about to utter the S-word. At first, I did this for fear of annoying my German friends. But as time went by, the habit of replacing impulsive outbursts of remorse with a brief moment of silence became liberating. I would analyse my speech and ask myself: What do I really feel in this moment? Is what I’m about to say really necessary? Am I saying this because I feel I should or because I actually want to? It is hardly surprising that Germans favour blunt communication – their language has some of the most literal words on the planet. Take the word diarrhoea, for instance. While Brits might euphemistically refer to “the runs” or “the squits”, the Germans will simply tell you they have “through fall” (Durchfall). Directness isn’t awkward if it is ingrained in your language. If you call your vacuum cleaner a dust sucker (Staubsauger), a squid an ink fish (Tintenfisch) and your gums tooth meat (Zahnfleisch), then why would you not get straight to the point in your everyday life? And so in Germany, politeness is equated with transparency, direct communication and reliability – not vague niceties or surface-level remorse. People want to know where they stand. Saying “I don’t mind” isn’t helpful. It’s a hindrance. Non-committal responses like “Maybe I’ll join you later” are interpreted as a confirmation of attendance. Much to my surprise, one friend even took a couple of days off work to go on a trip with me after I told her, “That sounds like a nice idea. I might be free then.” When I told my English students, “It’d be great if you could do this for homework by tomorrow”, I was astounded to find that not a single person in the class had completed the task by the following day. “But you used the word ‘could’, Miss. The homework was optional,” one smart alec piped up. As I looked around the classroom, hoping to find a guilty face in the crowd, I realised the rest of the class was nodding in agreement, as if the pupil had just stated the obvious. Of course nobody had done the homework – I’d used a conditional sentence. Great. Note to self: If you want someone to actually do something, use the imperative. “Do this for homework by tomorrow” invariably got better results. My stint in Germany taught me to say what I actually meant: no more, no less. And I weaned myself off the S-word: it’s now reserved exclusively for situations where I truly feel that I’m in the wrong. I feel more authentic – and I have the Germans to thank for that. Melita Cameron-Wood is a journalist, audio producer, voiceover artist, EFL teacher and German-English translator