The Beauty of Email


What I like most about email is the lack of reflection that takes place before one is sent. As an involuntary reflex, people have to think as they're writing an email, but people don't have to think about what they're saying in the email and the impact their message might have. They just need to click Send as soon as they're done typing whatever jumbled garbage they typed.
Email draws you into the raw, animalistic state of being of a person's mind. When I picture what goes on inside the head of one of my employees who is developing an email, I envision two animals fighting over a carcass picked clean by vultures. There's a struggle, a perceived victory, the clicking of Send, and a period of reflection that fills one up with an overwhelming feeling of emptiness. It makes me chuckle.
Even I don't like to reflect before I send email, and I get much more work done now because of it. In the old days, when I would dictate to a secretary, it was next to impossible to tell people what was really on my mind. I would ramble some stream-of-consciousness memo, usually about such things as the cut of my employees' pants or those pesky toxins that "may" have gotten into those Norwegian Ice Toys we sell, but when she would read my dictation back to me, I had to hear my words and thoughts. Those thoughts weren't nearly as perfect as they were when they came out of my mouth. I can't tell you how many secretaries I fired because of their ineptitude.