Tell Me That I'm Wrong

For all of my cockiness and humbuggery, I humbly admit that I am not one of the best diplomats that you will come across during your lifetime. If you send me for negotiation talks to call for a ceasefire in say Sri Lanka, between the 'freedom fighters' and the government, I would probably succeed instead in getting more civilians being kidnapped as hostages or getting shot in the head. Yes, I am that bad.

Also, I am not the kind of person that you would want to meet on a first date. Chances are, I'd offend you at the drop of a hat - never mind the fact that I won't be wearing one to the date in the first place. In fact, I dare say that I have offended or at the very least got on the nerves of one person more than I would have liked it to be.

As a rebellious, angry, emotional teenager with a bone to pick with any form of authority teenager, I would have rather walked the plank into a sea full of sharks - or anchovies, preferably - rather than admit that I was in the wrong. 'What is bloody wrong with 'im? Tis not my fault he dinna git wot I meant! Nae shall I apologise!', I fancy myself barking in a thick Scottish brogue that would have definitely made Sir Sean Connery beam in pride.

Sidenote: do Scots talk like that? Any Scotsmen here to clarify the matter?

But it's true that with age comes wisdom - or at least to those who pray for it. I have slowly seen the folly of my ways and learned that no good comes out of thinking that you're always right. That would explain why I haven't become a politician yet.

So yes. These days I am very much open to asking others what have I done wrong and apologising. I find it settles the problem much quicker without any sticky residue. The only problem is - are people willing to be equally open in telling me what I did wrong?