Business Condolence Note Etiquette

By Alexandra Eleanore Roberts, Executive coach and social protocol advisor; former Resort Assistant Manager, Four Seasons Resort Hualalai

Most of what is published about business sympathy notes is a page of sample sentences to copy into a card. The sentences are fine. They answer the easy part. The part executives actually get wrong comes earlier, at the moment someone in the office says “we should send something” and a card appears on a desk, already signed by eleven people, waiting for one more signature.

That card is where good intentions go to become a formality.

Whose name goes on it

The note comes from the person who had the relationship. If a client’s father has died and you are the one who sat across from that client for three years, you write to them, by hand, and you sign your own name. Your account team may sign a card as well. Your firm may send flowers. Neither of those is your note, and the client will know the difference the way anyone knows the difference between a letter and a form.

Inside a company the arithmetic changes a little. When a member of your own team loses a parent, the group card is a real kindness, because it tells them the whole floor knows and nobody expects them to explain. Sign it. Then, if you are their manager or the executive they report to, write separately as well. Four lines on a plain card, sent to their home.

I have strong feelings about letterhead here. A condolence note on paper printed with the company logo reads as a statement from the firm, and a statement from the firm is precisely what a grieving person does not want from someone who knew them. Use the same plain correspondence cards I recommend in business thank-you note etiquette, with a stamp on the envelope rather than a postage meter.

What to write

Very little. Say you are sorry, and use the name of the person who died if you know it (“I was so sorry to hear about your mother, Ruth” lands differently from “sorry for your loss”). If you met them, add one small true memory. If you did not, say something about what you have seen of the person you are writing to, how often they mentioned their father, or how they rearranged a board meeting to make his eightieth birthday. Then stop.

Leave out the cause of death. Leave out religious language too, unless you know for certain that you share the faith, and resist any comparison to a loss of your own, however well meant. “Please don’t write back” is a generous closing line. People who have just buried someone are often handed a stack of cards and a quiet obligation to answer every one.

Leave the business out

Completely. No mention of the deal, or of the offsite you will happily move to another week. The instinct is kind, because you want them to know there is no pressure, but the moment the work appears on the card, the card becomes about the work. If a meeting needs to move, your assistant arranges it in an ordinary email to their assistant, and nobody refers to the note. The same rule governs thank-you notes, where gratitude and requests should never share an envelope; with grief it matters more, because a misjudged thank-you is forgotten in a week and a misjudged condolence is remembered for years.

Flowers, donations and the firm

Read the obituary before anyone orders anything. Families say what they want, often in a single line at the bottom: in lieu of flowers, donations to the hospice that cared for him, or to a scholarship at the school where she taught for thirty years. Do what it says. A large arrangement sent from a firm against the family’s stated wishes is something the family will notice, and then have to find somewhere to put.

When the firm gives, give in the firm’s name and keep it modest. When you give personally, which is the better choice if you knew the family, give in your own name and do not mention the amount in your note. The charity will tell the family who gave. That is enough.

Going to the service

Go if you knew the person who died. Go, too, when the service is open and the person standing at the front is someone you work beside every day or a client you have known for years. Sit toward the back. Dress as you would for the most conservative client meeting of your year. Leave your phone in the car, and leave before the reception unless the family asks you to stay.

Then the guestbook, which almost nobody gets right. Sign your full name and, beneath it, the company. The family will read that book weeks later, often trying to work out who all these people were, and “Daniel Park, Hartwell Partners” tells a widow that her husband’s clients came. “Dan” tells her nothing.

Late is fine

The cards stop arriving after the second week, and the grief does not, so a note in the second month is often the one that gets read twice.

The first meeting back

This is where executives freeze, and I understand why. The colleague or client is back, there is an agenda, and nobody knows whether to say anything. Say one sentence, privately, before the meeting starts. “I was very sorry about your mother. It’s good to see you.” Then begin the meeting as you would any other and let them set the pace from there.

Do not raise it in front of the group, which makes them manage everyone else’s sympathy before their first cup of coffee. Do not keep checking in every few days, either. Once you have said the sentence, the hard part is resisting the urge to say more, and what I wrote about when silence is the only acceptable response applies with unusual force here: the quiet is a courtesy, and filling it is mostly for your own comfort.

Any hotel looks after a steady number of guests who are in town for a funeral. In my years at Four Seasons, first at Hualalai and later in San Francisco, the staff who did that best said something brief at check-in and then simply took care of the car to the service and the early wake-up call, without asking at breakfast how anyone was holding up. The executives I admire handle a colleague’s loss the same way, and it is one of the plainer tests of executive presence I know of, because nobody is watching and there is nothing to gain. The rest of the field notes cover the occasions that come with a guest list. This one rarely does.

Social protocol consulting

Alexandra Roberts advises founders, senior executives and the people who run their offices in San Francisco and across the Peninsula on the social protocol of business, including the correspondence that matters most when there is no template for it.

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