Years ago, a fellow editor by the name of Eric Knorr summed up the true
nature of e-mail. "It's the battleground of cowards," he said. Rather than call
someone on the phone with bad news (you're fired, I'm breaking up with you, the
check is definitely not in the mail, etc.), or God forbid, talk to them in
person, we turn to e-mail.
With a handful of electrons, you can craft a cold, sarcastic, or crushing
message delivered at the speed of light. You don't have to suffer the recipients'
pained look, their wails of protest, or even disparaging glances. E-mail makes
human interaction (if you can call it that) a painless, C.O.D. affair.
I realize that talking about e-mail in this
DSL-fiber-optic-wireless-e-commerceable era is decidedly retro. But e-mail is as
ubiquitous and as important in the daily lives of many as the automobile. Whether
sent internally on the office network or flashed to distant countries via the
Internet, e-mail is the backbone of modern communications. For most people, it is
the Internet.
Yet after all these years of e-mailing to and fro, after book upon book of
netiquette and emoticons and such, e-mail is still a lousy way to communicate.
Some companies ban its use internally for day-to-day departmental
communications--and rightly so. They insist that people get out of their chairs
and actually talk to one another. What a concept.
For starters, e-mail is inefficient. How many Ping-Pong messages have you
exchanged with a coworker over an issue that could have been resolved with a
30-second conversation? How many times have you sent an e-mail to someone in the
next office? And how many times have you sent a not-so-nice e-mail to someone
after you know they've left the office? Raise your hands and testify!
Worse, how many misunderstandings has e-mail fostered? After all, you can't
shrug, roll your eyes, or otherwise supply supporting (or contradictory) visual
cues when you send someone a message. What you think is an amusing little note is
taken at the other end as an insult; what you proffer as an expression of
platonic affection is taken as a leer; what you earnestly raise as an important
ethical conundrum is dismissed as sarcasm.
Interoffice e-mail misinterpretations are one thing; thanks to the
essentially anonymous nature of the Internet, you can be insulting, slanderous,
or worse. (Example: Someone once accused me of voting for Lyndon LaRouche.) Some
of the most, um, visceral messages I've received over the years have come from
this realm. (And most of it is misspelled. Doesn't everyone have a spelling
checker these days?) When confronted about their lack of manners, most of these
anonymous correspondents become civil, almost apologetic. But why be rude in the
first place?
I think it's because e-mail reveals the essential Jekyll-and-Hyde duality of
most people. In person, most people aren't confrontational. But get them behind a
keyboard and the conditioning and cues we associate with face-to-face discourse
seem to fall away. A number of my friends have told me about bosses who are sweet
as kittens in person and as nurturing as Darth Vader when corresponding via
e-mail.
In short, think twice before you click that Send button, especially if you've
just written a smart-ass message to your boss, a mash note to that certain
someone in accounting, or a caustic, cathartic letter to yours truly. If nothing
else, re-examine your prose and ask yourself if it could be easily misunderstood.
(I mean, if you really do want to send a message that dissects your boss, at
least make sure you're clear.) Remember: E-mail is forever, and can be used
against you in a court of law, love, or opinion.
Robert Luhn is the former editor in chief of ComputerUser.com. As always, he welcomes your comments. E-mail him at
rluhn@aol.com
