My E-mail Story

E-mail is really a wonderful thing for me. Gone are the days when my teachers used to rub my fingers to get the swelling down. See, I’m one of those people who when they write, write like they’re trying to assassinate the paper and the desk beneath it. I’m one of those people who’ve never had to worry about forms being in quadruplicate or quintuplicate or octuplicate (and I’m not worried if those are real words, either) because I will always press down hard enough for pages to spare. And choosing between black pen or blue pen is not an issue; it will always shows up exactly the same if I need to make a copy. I bet I could use light yellow pen and not have to worry.

E-mail means my friends get notes regularly and that I stay in touch. See, I secretly loathe the phone but that’s another topic for another time.I also just love techonology in general. For the most part, I can e-mail whenever I want, text message from my phone and heck, even make calls while I’m in the bathroom at the mall if I prefer. (I don’t actually prefer that and I’d prefer you not do it either if I’m in the public bathroom.)

Where I think it’s gone a little crazy is, oh I dunno, where you ask someone what their salary requirements are using a distribution list and then reject someone the same way. It’s not really the note you’re hoping to see in your in-box. Mind you, this has nothing to do with the outcome of my interview at the theater… oh no… ok, it does. Sometimes I don’t care how nice the note is; a call might be better choice in a professional environment. Call me old fashioned.

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