But…you promised…
My face contorted and my eyes welled up with tears. My father had reneged on something, and I was now in full-on despair mode.
My father wasn’t having it.
I did no such thing, he retorted. I said I’d try to make it happen – and I did try. It just didn’t work out.
I don’t make a lot of promises. Promises are rare because you can’t break them. So, you’d better be sure when you make one.
This explanation did little to assuage me. If anything, it made the matter worse.
For my father’s mantra undercut the daily promise bartering I engaged in at elementary school.
Each day – in the hallways or at recess – I would make lip-service commitments to my classmates. My peers would reply in kind would make some back. Then we’d break those pledges faster than our favorite crayons.
Our promises were nothing more than a figure of speech. But now, my father was stating that we had it all wrong.
I felt betrayed. I felt confused. But eventually, I saw the light.
My life is filled with habits.
Routines and rituals – instituted over time – have come to govern my daily behavior. They’ve offered a template for what others can expect of me, and what I demand of myself.
I’ve picked up most of these habits in adolescence and adulthood. But a scant few stretch back to my youth.
Including my stance on promises.
You see, that little speech my father gave all those years ago resonated with me. Even at that early age, I could see the value in honoring a commitment.
Promise became a rarely used word in my vocabulary after that. Even as my peers played fast and loose with the term, I kept my power dry.
Over time, this steadfast approach earned me plaudits. Others would speak to my integrity, grit, and heart. They would place their trust in me proactively, with no strings attached.
I was honored. And more than a bit terrified.
For I’d come to understand the pressure that lay behind a commitment. I realized that I needed to deliver the goods. And I felt the heat of that demand.
I started to wonder if any promise was worth the risk. I was tempted to waver from even the most basic of commitments, to buffer me from the humiliation of seeing them fall short.
But I recognized that danger lurked behind that door too. After all, trust is borne from commitment. I needed to stand for something to retain the reputation I’d built.
So, with hesitation, I plowed ahead. All the while wondering where the road might lead.
For more than a decade, I’ve worked for companies that support the insurance industry. And over that time, I’ve come to understand that corner of the business world quite well.
Insurance, in its purest form, is the textbook definition of a promise. Consumers pay premiums to their insurer when times are good, all so that insurers can make them whole when times are bad.
I’ve seen this work in practice. When a wayward driver plowed their truck into the rear door of my SUV some years back, my insurance policy covered the cost of both the repairs and a rental vehicle. The promise outlined in my coverage summary was realized, smoothing over a challenging moment.
Yet, that promise still had its white-knuckle moment. I reported my claim with no guarantee that it be approved. That promise hung by a thread as I waited for the verdict from my insurer. And I waited for a while.
It turns out the promise business ain’t what it used to be. With all the emergent threats in our world – a pandemic, an inflationary surge, the rise of AI-based cyberwarfare, and more – it’s hard for players in the insurance industry to make people whole while remaining solvent.
And that’s led to some changes.
Some providers have charged consumers more for the privilege of their promise. Others have started peeling back their commitments.
It’s an ominous sign. And yet, one that somehow seems overdue.
For outcomes have always been uncertain. Even the most seemingly secure promises always had a chance of falling through.
We’ve just tended to plow over that fact with bluster and ingenuity in the past. We’ve captivated the masses with the fantasy of the sure thing. And we’ve relied on a mixture of grit and faith to make it real.
But now, the veil is lifted. In a world turned upside down, some promises have proven to be empty vessels.
And we’re left to pick up the pieces.
A little over a decade ago, I made one of the biggest promises of my life.
I had just launched Ember Trace. And I’d committed to adding a fresh article here each week.
For 523 consecutive weeks, I did just that. Through life changes and world changes, I kept on writing and kept on posting.
I lauded this fulfilled commitment as a testament to my perseverance. But was it really?
In truth, the decade-long writing streak was as much a function of luck than anything else.
I could have been maimed and rendered unable to tap my keyboard at some point during that decade. My computer could have broken down, or my Internet could have gone out. I could have taken a blow to the head and struggled to write.
None of those outcomes would have been my fault, per se. But they would have led to empty promises and broken commitments.
Guarantees are that fragile. We might think we determine the state of play, thanks to our character and determination. But control over the outcome is never quite in our grasp.
We must accept that solemn fact, while somehow willingly ignoring its existence.
For that contradiction is what sets the foundation for our character and our accomplishments. It’s what determines how far we’ll go — and who will join us on that journey.
So yes, my promises might be limited these days – and their fulfillment might be partially out of my hands. But I’m still willing to commit to them, and to do all that’s in my power to see them through.
Will you?