My neighbour, Dinah, doesn’t like to waste a centimetre of critical brain space on such banal details as names. She’s so busy solving the great mysteries of life – even when she’s rolling out pie pastry – that a poorly-timed and inconsiderate phone call can totally derail the profound thought she was having, thus robbing the world of something…..well…..just something, I guess.
Last week, boldly ignoring the potential loss to mankind, I phoned her, and began slowly and crisply with, “It’s Alena Schram.”
And she answered insufferably as always, “Oh……Eileen Schubert?” (or Eleanor Southam or even Ellen Swine).
This was one befuddlement too many for me. “For goodness’ sake!” I snapped, “You know perfectly well who I am!”
And guess what? She did.
Should have communicated by email, I thought belatedly. So much less contentious and annoying.
Emails are the best invention since the tampon, and they don’t clog up the septic system.
Right now I have 1014 resting in my Inbox and 3839 sweetly nestled in my Sent file. And before you ask, the answer is: yes, I do delete. Great gobs of messages every month. But the little fiends just keep re-colonizing.
I’m addicted to the medium: I love to crank up my computer in the morning and find 10 or 15 delicious emails waiting for me. And I love to pull the blanket up at night, perch the iPad on my knees, and send electronic hugs to friends that have been on my mind all day.
“Did you manage to get the chocolate finger painting out of the velvet chair?” I write. “Today’s grandchildren are so much more creative than their parents ever were.”
Or, “Remember the afternoon we found your parents’ sex manual behind the liquor cabinet and vowed never to marry if it meant having to deal with a man’s you-know-what?”
Or even, “I’m thinking about you and your problem with Janette. Dump her! No one needs a friend that’s gone toxic!”
These emails are my way of staying connected without actually having to hear every detail of a home renovation or a hip replacement or even a catastrophic holiday in Sardinia.
But there are some people that believe the email is a modern communications upstart that has lamentably replaced the handwritten letter. They write long, carefully constructed messages beginning with “My dear” and ending with “Yours affectionately” which they expect to be savoured and digested slowly and sacredly. They certainly don’t want an answer back in less time than it takes to power down their computers.
Yesterday I got the following email from a friend who adheres to the Jane Austen School of Letter Writing: “I just managed to get a long letter off to you,” it groused, “and there’s a reply already back in my Inbox. Why can’t you do the decent thing and wait six months before answering?”
As I lay in bed last night, iPad resting on my knees again, I pondered her retort. And I came up with a short protocol to deal with this sort of message. I call it Alena’s Short Protocol for Dealing with Such Messages:
1. Resist the temptation to write back and call her a bad name (examples of which I can’t actually spell out here in case this falls into the hands of minors). Do not enquire about her recent hysterectomy either. Leave the question of hormone deficiencies to her husband, whom she describes – in her email, at least – in very unflattering terms, bordering on the profane (examples likewise omitted: see above).
2. Do not, under any circumstances, point out that she has too much time on her hands, and that playing Bridge five times a week does not constitute living a full life. Do not indicate that Full Life Status also requires a few hands of Canasta, an evening of Euchre, and – and if she's a Canadian – two rounds of Crokinole, and one of Rummoli (non-Canadians please consult Google) added to her repertoire.
3. Wait three weeks and then write back. Instead of text, insert brief comments into the body of her letter, in red. Where she has described her surgery, write OH DEAR! And after the paragraph on her horrible husband, type WHAT A CAD! Add YOU MUST BE EXHAUSTED! NO WONDER YOU CAN’T BEAR THE THOUGHT OF MORE INCOMING MESSAGES! following the section on the stresses of Bridge.
4. Send an email immediately with a subject line that reads: IGNORE PREVIOUS EMAIL WITH IMPORTANT NEWS just to upset her.
5. Then click on Address Book and delete her details. Empty the trash.
Alena Schram
www.opinionatedoldcow.blogspot.com
Last week, boldly ignoring the potential loss to mankind, I phoned her, and began slowly and crisply with, “It’s Alena Schram.”
And she answered insufferably as always, “Oh……Eileen Schubert?” (or Eleanor Southam or even Ellen Swine).
This was one befuddlement too many for me. “For goodness’ sake!” I snapped, “You know perfectly well who I am!”
And guess what? She did.
Should have communicated by email, I thought belatedly. So much less contentious and annoying.
Emails are the best invention since the tampon, and they don’t clog up the septic system.
Right now I have 1014 resting in my Inbox and 3839 sweetly nestled in my Sent file. And before you ask, the answer is: yes, I do delete. Great gobs of messages every month. But the little fiends just keep re-colonizing.
I’m addicted to the medium: I love to crank up my computer in the morning and find 10 or 15 delicious emails waiting for me. And I love to pull the blanket up at night, perch the iPad on my knees, and send electronic hugs to friends that have been on my mind all day.
“Did you manage to get the chocolate finger painting out of the velvet chair?” I write. “Today’s grandchildren are so much more creative than their parents ever were.”
Or, “Remember the afternoon we found your parents’ sex manual behind the liquor cabinet and vowed never to marry if it meant having to deal with a man’s you-know-what?”
Or even, “I’m thinking about you and your problem with Janette. Dump her! No one needs a friend that’s gone toxic!”
These emails are my way of staying connected without actually having to hear every detail of a home renovation or a hip replacement or even a catastrophic holiday in Sardinia.
But there are some people that believe the email is a modern communications upstart that has lamentably replaced the handwritten letter. They write long, carefully constructed messages beginning with “My dear” and ending with “Yours affectionately” which they expect to be savoured and digested slowly and sacredly. They certainly don’t want an answer back in less time than it takes to power down their computers.
Yesterday I got the following email from a friend who adheres to the Jane Austen School of Letter Writing: “I just managed to get a long letter off to you,” it groused, “and there’s a reply already back in my Inbox. Why can’t you do the decent thing and wait six months before answering?”
As I lay in bed last night, iPad resting on my knees again, I pondered her retort. And I came up with a short protocol to deal with this sort of message. I call it Alena’s Short Protocol for Dealing with Such Messages:
1. Resist the temptation to write back and call her a bad name (examples of which I can’t actually spell out here in case this falls into the hands of minors). Do not enquire about her recent hysterectomy either. Leave the question of hormone deficiencies to her husband, whom she describes – in her email, at least – in very unflattering terms, bordering on the profane (examples likewise omitted: see above).
2. Do not, under any circumstances, point out that she has too much time on her hands, and that playing Bridge five times a week does not constitute living a full life. Do not indicate that Full Life Status also requires a few hands of Canasta, an evening of Euchre, and – and if she's a Canadian – two rounds of Crokinole, and one of Rummoli (non-Canadians please consult Google) added to her repertoire.
3. Wait three weeks and then write back. Instead of text, insert brief comments into the body of her letter, in red. Where she has described her surgery, write OH DEAR! And after the paragraph on her horrible husband, type WHAT A CAD! Add YOU MUST BE EXHAUSTED! NO WONDER YOU CAN’T BEAR THE THOUGHT OF MORE INCOMING MESSAGES! following the section on the stresses of Bridge.
4. Send an email immediately with a subject line that reads: IGNORE PREVIOUS EMAIL WITH IMPORTANT NEWS just to upset her.
5. Then click on Address Book and delete her details. Empty the trash.
Alena Schram
www.opinionatedoldcow.blogspot.com
AN EPHRONESQUE OBSERVATION OF LIFE: FROM THE PERILS OF FACEBOOK, THE ANNOYING
TENDENCIES OF HUSBANDS WHO CO-SHOP, AND THE DEFECTIVE REARING OF GRANDCHILDREN,
TO SPORTS CARS FOR THE MENOPAUSAL, BRAS THAT WINCH, AND CHIN HAIRS WITH MINDS
OF THEIR OWN.
TO PURCHASE A PAPERBACK IN KINGSTON, VISIT NOVEL IDEA;
AND IN OTTAWA, TRY BOOKS ON BEECHWOOD ($20 + TAX);
OTHERWISE, ORDER FROM WWW.COWDYHOUSE.COM
ALSO AVAILABLE AS AN EBOOK FROM THE USUAL SOURCES.
OTHERWISE, ORDER FROM WWW.COWDYHOUSE.COM
ALSO AVAILABLE AS AN EBOOK FROM THE USUAL SOURCES.
