Promises are the cheapest currency going. They slip out before you’ve even realised you’ve minted one. Yeah, sure. Of course. Leave it with me. Five seconds later you’ve bought yourself applause you didn’t earn — and a job you’ll probably never do.
I learnt that while shoving my writing under people’s noses.
I sent a few articles to friends and family, nothing heavy, just a handful of pages. Every single one promised to read. Naturally, no one did. When I asked what they thought, I got a smile so empty you could park a car in it. That was the sting: not that they hadn’t written essays about my work, just that they couldn’t even be bothered to fake a line about it. Halfway through my rant I realised I’ve done exactly the same thing. Different subjects, same scam. We’re all handing out little IOUs for approval and quietly binning them when life gets awkward. Next time someone swears they’ll read, I might just give them a plastic medal for “Heroic Support (Imaginary Division)” and walk away.
The Quick High of Saying “Yes
Other promises? Endless. Someone swears blind they’ll help you move — suddenly their back “goes” the second the van door opens. Workmates promising figures “before lunch” that somehow arrive the next week, accompanied by a tragic tale about how the spreadsheet “ate itself.” Relatives pledging to “pop round soon,” though their definition of soon belongs to another calendar entirely. Friends promising to book weekends, fix taps, phone parents, start the gym, learn Spanish, write a novel — they all evaporate the moment reality taps them on the shoulder.
Part of it’s brain chemistry. Saying yes gives you a quick hit of pride. Look at me, solid citizen, reliable friend. That high is free at the point of sale. Delivery, on the other hand, costs sweat, petrol, Saturday mornings. No parade for that, just graft.
The Future Discount: Why Later Always Sounds Easier
Another part is the way we price the future. Helping someone paint a spare room sounds like nothing when it’s filed under “later.” Later shows up raining, with errands piling up, and suddenly that promise is an unwelcome guest. So we dodge, or apologise, or pretend we forgot.
Promises as Social Performance
Sometimes it’s not clumsiness at all, it’s strategy. At work, “I promise I’ll do it tomorrow, you’ll see,” is often code for “please stop talking so I can drink my coffee in peace.” On a date, “We should go away somewhere” isn’t about booking flights — it’s bait. Families are mastPromises as Social Performanceers too: “Yes, yes, we’ll visit soon,” muttered while they’re already halfway back to the sofa.
Promises as Social Performance
And, honestly, there’s plain avoidance. Most people will sign themselves up for future chores rather than endure a tiny, awkward “no” in the moment. Promises work like cheap anaesthetic — easy to inject, ugly when it wears off.
How to Stop Digging the Promise Trap
How to stop digging your own trap? Don’t rush the yes. Give it a second. Even “let me see” buys time to ask if you’ll actually turn up. If you won’t, say so. A short, honest no leaves less wreckage than a “sure” that rots.
If guilt nibbles, cut the task down: “I can’t lug boxes all day, but I’ll bring coffee.” Keep an eye on the debts you’ve already stacked up; seeing them lined up like unpaid parking tickets is a decent cure for generosity you don’t have.
Chasing someone else’s promise? Pin them down. “Can you water the plants Tuesday?” lands better than “Mind the house.” If they bail anyway, don’t let it eat you. Their flake is about their backbone, not your value.
The Cost of Empty Promises
Empty promises aren’t cute fluff; they chew holes in trust until everything you say sounds like elevator music. If you want words to matter, spend them like they belong to you — because they do.
And about those unread articles — I’ve stopped waiting for redemption. When somebody gushes about reading them “soon,” I just picture them pinning a fake ribbon to their chest and go find an audience who actually opens attachments.
The Real Lesson: Mean It or Don’t Say It
Maybe that’s the whole lesson. Promises are easy because talk is cheap and applause is addictive. Keeping them is where skin meets pavement. Offer fewer, mean them, and if you can’t? Shut it. People might actually believe you next time
We make promises like we spend credit — fast, emotional, and with zero plan to pay it back. If you’ve ever wondered why your “just one more swipe” feels the same as “I swear I’ll do it tomorrow,” read this next: Credit Cards — The Shiny Trap Nobody Warned You About
Maybe you’ve promised to read a friend’s work, sworn you’d “help on Saturday,” or vowed to start that new habit only to watch it evaporate. Send it to me — the sharpest stories or boldest ideas for the next piece could shape the following article, with your name pinned to it like a medal that actually means something.