It’s tempting to think respect gets earned through big, visible moments, a major accomplishment, a bold decision, a dramatic act of generosity. Two controlled studies looking at what actually shifts how people regard someone suggest the real answer is smaller and far more repeatable than that, ordinary habits performed consistently rather than one-time displays.

The clearest evidence comes from a set of 1995 field experiments by Daniel Howard, Charles Gengler, and Ambuj Jain, published in the Journal of Consumer Research. In one experiment, a person approached students on campus, was introduced by name, and later returned to ask them to buy cookies for a charity fundraiser. When the requester correctly recalled and used the student’s name during the second interaction, 90 percent of students purchased cookies. When the requester either didn’t use a name or used a neutral one, the purchase rate dropped to 55 percent. A follow-up experiment found an even sharper split, 100 percent compliance when a name was correctly remembered, compared to 70 percent and 60 percent in the comparison conditions. The researchers found this wasn’t just about being remembered, participants rated being recalled by name as a genuine compliment, and that sense of being flattered was what drove people to treat the rememberer more favorably in return.

A second study helps explain what happens on the other side of the ledger, when someone makes a mistake rather than a good impression. In a 2019 study by Fengling Ma and colleagues, published in Frontiers in Psychology, 221 adults took part in a trust game in which a partner violated their trust, either with or without a follow-up apology. People who received an apology afterward reinvested significantly more tokens with their partner, averaging 11.66 out of 20, compared to just 7.38 among those who got no apology at all, a jump of roughly 58 percent. Perceived trustworthiness ratings followed the same pattern, rising significantly after a sincere apology compared to none. The apology didn’t fully restore trust to where it stood before the violation, the never-violated control group still averaged higher, but it reliably moved the needle back in the right direction.

Together, these two studies point to something practical about how respect and trust actually accumulate. Howard, Gengler, and Jain’s research shows that a genuinely small habit, taking the effort to remember and use someone’s name, functions as a real compliment that measurably increases how willing people are to extend goodwill in return. Ma and colleagues’ research shows that when trust takes a hit, the habit of offering a real apology, rather than letting the moment pass, does concrete, measurable repair work on how trustworthy a person is seen to be afterward. Neither study is about a single dramatic gesture. Both are about a small, repeatable behavior performed at the right moment.

It’s worth being honest about what these two studies don’t establish. Howard, Gengler, and Jain’s research was conducted in a specific campus fundraising context using in-person requests, and while the underlying effect, that being remembered functions as a compliment, is intuitive and has shown up in related consumer research, the exact percentages may not transfer directly to workplace or family settings. Ma and colleagues’ research measured trust using a laboratory token-exchange game rather than a real-world relationship, and apologies that felt insincere or forced in that setting were less effective, suggesting the habit only works when it’s genuine rather than performed as a formality.

Within those honest limits, the research offers a useful, low-effort starting point for anyone wanting to be better regarded by the people around them. Learning and using someone’s name costs nothing and reliably reads as a form of attention and respect. Offering a real apology when it’s warranted, rather than deflecting or letting it slide, does measurable work toward repairing what a mistake damaged. Neither habit is dramatic. Both are available every single day.