Four sentences, sent before they ask twice. The words that quietly void an apology, how much to give back, and the follow-up almost nobody sends.
Sailo team12 min read
You sent the wrong size. Or it turned up broken, or four days after the birthday, and the message sitting on your phone is polite in the way that means the person is furious. Now you're rewriting the same reply for the fourth time and it keeps getting longer.
Make it shorter. Name what went wrong, say it was on you, say what you're doing about it with a date attached, and offer the money or the replacement before they ask for either. Four sentences, sent inside an hour. A $28 candle that arrived smashed costs you $28 to fix and about $9 to make; the conversation about it costs you a customer worth several hundred over three years, so the arithmetic is never really close.
The long version is where apologies go to die. Every extra sentence you add is a sentence that sounds like a reason it wasn't quite your fault.
Hi Marisa, you're right, that's my mistake. The lavender got packed instead of the cedar and I've checked the shelf, it's exactly what happened.
A cedar one goes out today and I've got the tracking, I'll send it this afternoon. Keep the lavender, it's yours.
Sorry about it. Genuinely annoying when you've waited a week for one thing and a different thing shows up.
Four moves in that message, and it's under 80 words.
What's missing is as important as what's there. There's no paragraph about how busy you've been, no story about the supplier, no promise about improving your processes. The customer does not want your process. They want their candle.
Some phrases undo the entire message. Read your draft and delete these on sight.
"Sorry you feel that way." This is not an apology, it's a diagnosis, and everyone recognises it. It has probably ended more customer relationships than late delivery has.
"As per our policy." The moment you cite a policy, you've told the customer they're dealing with a wall. Save policy language for the cases where you're refusing, and even then, use plain words.
"But." Everything before "but" is deleted by everything after it. "Sorry it was late, but the courier was overwhelmed" is not an apology, it's a defence with a courtesy at the front.
"Unfortunately." A weather word. Things that are unfortunate happen to nobody in particular. Replace with "I".
Any explanation longer than one clause. You're allowed one clause of context, because a bare apology with no cause can feel evasive. One. "The batch cured badly" is fine. Three sentences about why the batch cured badly is you asking the customer to sympathise, which is a lot to ask of somebody holding a broken candle.
An apology and an explanation are not the same message. The explanation is for you, and you should send it to nobody.
Sellers send the apology and then feel like something's been done. Nothing has been done. A customer with a broken item and a lovely message still has a broken item.
So the apology has to arrive attached to an action, and the action should already be in progress when you send it. "Going out today" is worth ten times "I'll send a replacement", because one is a fact and the other is an intention.
If you genuinely can't fix it yet, say when you'll know, and name the day.
I don't have an answer today, but I'll have one by Thursday and I'll message you Thursday either way, even if the answer is still no.
Then message on Thursday. That single kept promise, on a day nothing else went right, does more for you than the eventual resolution.
Compensation is where sellers either panic and refund everything or grip and offer 10% off a future order. Both are wrong most of the time. Scale it to the harm, not to the anger.
| What happened | What usually settles it |
|---|---|
| Two or three days late, item fine | The apology, a named arrival date, nothing else |
| A week late, no warning from you | Refund the delivery charge |
| Arrived damaged | Replacement or full refund, buyer's choice, no return needed if it's cheap to replace |
| Wrong item sent | Correct item out today, keep the wrong one if it's low value |
| Missed a dated event | Full refund including delivery, and don't offer a replacement they no longer need |
| Their fault, but they're upset | Fix it once at your cost, and say clearly that it's a one-off |
The rule underneath the table: the compensation almost never has to match the loss. It has to arrive before they ask. A $6 gesture offered unprompted outperforms a $20 one extracted after two messages, and any seller who has tried both will tell you the second one buys nothing at all.
The other rule: don't hand out a discount code as compensation. A code only pays out if they buy from you again, which means you've asked the person you just let down to do you a favour. Give the money, or give a thing, and if you want to give the code as well, give it as well.
The courier lost it. The rain wrote off the box. The buyer put in the wrong flat number and the parcel went back to the depot.
You still apologise, and the reason is practical rather than moral. You're the only person in this story the customer can talk to. The courier isn't reading their messages.
The move is to apologise for the outcome and be factual about the cause, in that order, without leaning on the cause as a defence:
Sorry, this one's gone wrong. The parcel's been sitting at the depot since Tuesday and I've opened a claim, so I'm not waiting on them any longer. A replacement goes out tomorrow morning and I'll deal with the courier myself.
"I'll deal with the courier myself" is the sentence. It moves the problem from their side of the table to yours, which is the entire job.
When it's genuinely the buyer's mistake, a wrong address they typed, fix it once anyway if it's cheap, and say what you're doing:
The address on the order was flat 3 and it's gone there. I've paid the redelivery to get it to flat 8, so it should be with you tomorrow. I'll cover it this time, just double-check the address next time and we're fine.
That costs you a few pounds and it ends the conversation with both people intact. Getting the redelivery fee out of them costs the few pounds anyway in messages.
One email on pricing, photographs, delivery and getting paid. No pitch, no filler.
Apologise for outcomes, not for existing.
Don't apologise for your prices. "Sorry, I know it's expensive" tells a buyer they're being overcharged by someone who agrees with them. Say the price, say what's in it, stop talking.
Don't apologise for a normal delivery time you stated in advance and met.
Don't apologise for saying no to something you don't do. A clear, kind refusal isn't an offence, and the wording for it is in when to say no to a customer.
And don't apologise five times to the same person. Once, properly, then move to the fix. Repeated apologising reads as instability, and it invites escalation, because if you're this sorry it must have been much worse than they thought.
There's one more case: the customer who is comprehensively wrong and unpleasant with it. You can still be gracious without conceding the facts. "I've had a look and it went out on the 4th, tracking says delivered on the 6th, and I'm happy to send you the screenshot. I'm sorry it's turned into a hassle." That's not an apology for the thing. It's an apology for the hassle, and it's the honest one.
Seven to ten days after the fix, send one line.
Hi Marisa, just checking the cedar one turned up and it's right this time. No reply needed if it's all good.
Two things happen. Occasionally you catch a second failure before it becomes a review. Much more often, you get a warm reply from someone who now remembers the recovery rather than the mistake, and a decent share of those people order again.
This message takes eleven seconds and roughly nobody sends it. It is the cheapest repeat-customer tactic that exists, and it's covered from the other direction in how to get repeat buyers.
A complaint in your comments is two conversations at once: the customer, and the forty people reading.
Reply publicly, once, short. Take it, name the fix, offer to move it to DMs. Don't argue facts in public, don't post screenshots of the order, and don't delete the comment unless it's abusive, because deleting is the one move that turns a complaint into a story.
That's on me, sorry. Replacement's going out today. I've messaged you as well so we can sort the details.
Then actually message them. The public reply is for the audience; the private one is where the problem gets solved. If it's already turned into a review rather than a comment, handling a bad review covers the different shape that takes, and if the person is furious rather than merely disappointed, the sequence in how to handle an angry customer comes first.
Dana pours soy candles in Austin, sells them at $28 each, about 120 a month, mostly through Instagram and a shop link, roughly half on card and half by bank transfer.
One July she poured a batch at the wrong temperature and 30-odd candles developed a wet, pitted surface. They burned fine. They looked wrong. Eleven had already shipped by the time she noticed.
What she did, the same afternoon: messaged all eleven before any of them messaged her. Same four-part message with each person's name and order in it. Replacement in the next batch, plus a refund of the delivery, and "keep the one you've got, it burns perfectly, it just isn't pretty".
Nine replied. Seven said don't worry about the replacement. Two took it. One posted a photo of the ugly candle on Instagram Stories with a caption about how the seller had messaged before she'd even noticed the problem, and Dana got, by her count, four orders out of that story.
The eleventh customer never replied and never ordered again, which is worth saying because these stories usually get told as if recovery works every time.
Her cost: about $60 in refunded delivery and two replacement candles. Her comparison point is the previous December, when a delayed order sat unmentioned for nine days, and the customer left a review that she reckons was still costing her sales six months later.
The thing she says she got wrong for the first two years: she used to apologise and then explain the chemistry. Nobody cared about the chemistry. The moment she cut the explanation, her messages got shorter and the replies got warmer, and she thinks that's because a short apology sounds like someone taking responsibility and a long one sounds like someone building a case.
Sailo has no apology flow, no service desk, no ticket, no template library. This is entirely you and your phone.
Where it helps is the boring part: the order arrives written down, with the item, the options, the address and the total, so when you're writing the message you can name the exact thing they bought rather than guessing from a chat. Getting the customer's name and item right in the first line is most of the difference between a message that lands and one that reads like a form.
The bit worth knowing before you promise a full refund on a small order: on card, the charge went into your own Stripe account, so the refund happens in Stripe, not in Sailo, and you should check your own Stripe fee schedule for what does and doesn't come back on a refund. Sailo's own cut on card is 1–3% of the goods, which on a $28 candle is 28 cents to 84 cents — 3% on the free plan, falling to 1% on Business — so at low volume the rate is the whole of what you pay to weigh, and the free plan takes cards too. On bank transfer and cash there's no fee and no rail, which also means no refund button: it's you, manually, sending money back to the account it came from.
What makes a customer stay after a failure is mostly what they thought of you before it, and the groundwork for that is in building trust before money moves.
Open your notes and write it with a blank where the item goes: the mistake named, the ownership, the fix with a date, the compensation. Save it where your quick replies live.
Then set one recurring habit: whenever you fix something, put a reminder seven days out to send the one-line follow-up. That reminder is the whole difference between a customer who forgives you and a customer who comes back.
Written by
Sailo team
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