How to break a window with an email

How to break a window with an email.

Tim Longwill (timlongwill.com)

Douglas Adams, the author of 5 and a half books in the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy Trilogy wrote an article called ‘How to stop worrying and learn to love the internet’. The article was aimed at people like me who had difficulty in understanding the divide between the technophilia which characterises the ‘Y’ Generation and the technophobia which infects most of my generation.

He said:

“Everything that’s already in the world when you’re born is just normal.

Anything that gets invented between then and before you turn thirty is incredibly exciting and creative and with any luck you can make a career out of it.

 Anything that gets invented after you’re thirty is against the natural order of things and the beginning of the end of civilisation as we know it …until it’s been around for about ten years when it gradually turns out to be alright really.”

What Adams did not say is that the experience of those unlucky enough to have been born in the previous generation is valueless in these cyber-times. I was reminded off this recently when one of the members of Gen Y was expressing frustration and disgust at the attitude of another Gen Y’er apparently evident in the email she received:

“Why did you do that Bozo?” was the offending text.  After an initial flurry of digital excitement between the two it became apparent that Bozo was a term of endearment and the question involved the motivation behind a gift rather than an accusation of wrongdoing. (It is comforting to see that even with Gen Y the first reaction is to assume the defensive position).

Before email pushed communication into the world where a paragraph of text became overwhelming we would write letters.

I still do. I like letters.  They show a number of things, not the least of which is some command of the English language.

Email is speed and convenience. Putting pen to paper is a different dynamic.  The investment of a message commited to a permanent three dimensional writing form acknowledges respect for the subject matter and the process of communication.

I can recall one of the things that was impressed upon me when I was taught how to write a letter by a cranky Partner in a now defunct law firm was to ensure that I was clear in my message. Basic stuff really but the context then was different.

In those times, if the wording of a letter was ambiguous or the message unclear it could be days before the mess could be cleared up. To be fair, it was also a time when a recipient was probably prepared to give the writer the benefit of the doubt as well and pick up the phone (usually a land line) if that was possible.

Even now, where clarity is important I will dictate a letter using that discipline to use the words I need rather than dancing to the rhythm that accompanies the use of email.

Email is really an altogether different kettle of fish to a letter. In fact, to torture the metaphor further, I suspect that they are a whole different species of seafood.

I write 50-60 emails a day. I am by no means peculiar in this respect. I do know however through bitter experience that a poorly phrased email can be as confronting as being abused across a crowded street by your mother. (I imagine).

The saving grace is that unlike the time of the typewriter and the postage stamp, as messages travel at light speed any offense can now be just as quickly addressed.

What is however deteriorating is the assumption of the writers respect for the recipient. Familiarity breeding contempt two bytes at a time. When we focus on the short, sharp and shiny of the email, there is no real evidence that the writer cares about the communication and, by extension, the recipient.

Pen put to paper or even a typed letter shows investment and with it value. An email does not.

Just imagine how differently you would feel if instead of receiving an email offering you free penile enlargement you received a handwritten note.

There would no doubt be other questions that would flow from receiving such a letter but you get the idea.

While an email is a poor tool often badly used, the real issue with email is that it does have the capacity to very easily create entirely the wrong impression.

Emails can ooze disdain.  I received this email recently:

“i am realy bus y at moment can u do ths? get KM to help.  thx.”

Hold me back. I want to help someone who takes me for granted to this extent. That shift key is really a bother and the milliseconds you have saved can no doubt be devoted to a much more important task than seeking my help.

There is a theory which predicts the incidence of crime called the ‘Broken Window’ theory. The theory is the idea of James Q Wilson who passed away last year at the age of 80. The theory, is that neighbourhood appearance determines to a large degree the amount of crime.Specifically,  if broken windows are left unreplaced and those who broke them are not caught, the impression is that laws are not being enforced. That then leads to more crime, including more serious crimes.

The corollary of the theory was used in addressing New York subway crime which until only recently was out of control. Instead of focussing on addressing serious assaults and robberies, City Hall concentrated instead on reducing graffiti, limiting fare evasion and stopping minor property damage. It was both persistent and consistent in its approach. The thrust was to create value in the transport system. To show that it was valued and was something to be valued.

Rates of crime dissolved to the lowest levels in history and subway revenue boomed.

The most common form of communication between colleagues today is email. It is fast, efficient and stable. No doubt it will be with us for the foreseeable (as short as that may be) future and beyond.  It is truly a revolutionary tool. In this sense an intergenerational relative of the NYC subway system.

The point is this: in both systems graffiti gives off a feeling of disrespect and a perception of lack of value. When we make contact with colleagues we can exercise a small amount of effort to avoid breaking windows.

You can pretend that you are so busy and important that capitalising letters and using punctuation is an entirely forgivable distraction (it is not) or you can take the opportunity to communicate with care and show you respect for the message and the recipient.

thx 4 tr attn.

(Tim Longwill is a Brisbane lawyer who occasionally gets cross enough to post a blog)