We've Got Mail
The Dean's Musings
This article was originally published in the March 1999 issue of CLASnotes
It was recently estimated that over two billion e-mail messages are sent daily in the United States. Some days you may feel that an undue number of those arrive in your mailbox. But like it or not, the electronic communication revolution is upon us, and we best be prepared. CLAS has made e-mail and Internet access for faculty a high priority as indicated by the hundreds of new computers purchased and the buildings/offices wired.
Like any other form of communication, e-mail can be a mixed blessing. I admit to being semi-compulsive about its use. Regular (snail) mail gains my attention once a day, usually after 5:00 pm. But e-mail subverts conventional office screening processes, bypassing secretaries and admins, announcing by signature electronic beeps its successful penetration of office security. I reach Pavlovingly for the Read key.
An addiction to e-mail is easily understood. In a world that increasingly values—and sometimes depends on—rapid responses, e-mail is the poster child. I greatly value its almost instant communication possibilities. The two to three days (minimum) waiting for normal mail, each way, seems interminable compared to e-mail. Messages can be sent as easily to Munich as Miami. Documents can be transferred, assuming the two systems speak each other's language. The preparation of manuscripts with colleagues in distant locations has become a piece of cake. I would feel lost without e-mail.
But it is a medium fraught with imperfections. Not from a technological standpoint, but from user habits. We tend to use e-mail much like the telephone—informal, spontaneous, loose. The critical difference we tend to "forget" is that this message is written, and therefore subject to further analysis by those who are not privy to the context or the nuances that the sender knows to be there, but which are invisible to others. Our words live on after us and may tend to morph into a fully unintended message. Unlike phone calls, we lose control of e-mail once sent. It may be forwarded, benignly intended or otherwise, to readers who come late to the conversation, with unpredictable results. Also, mailing accidents do happen. I have received (and no doubt sent) messages with unintended recipients. For example, the Redirect mode in Eudora can be an adventure, sometimes humorous, sometimes embarrassing. And recall that e-mail is basically public information. Don't send anything you wouldn't want to see in the Gainesville Sun.
E-mail is seldom mistaken for great literature. People who would carefully proof read and rewrite other forms of communication can send e-mail featuring tortured syntax and recreational spelling. Quick communication drives us to get it off. I often think that we should attach a standard disclaimer on our messages, "Sent without having been read." Or equally apropos, "Responding without having really read your message." My advice to all of us: make e-mail messages short, because the reader's attention span may be briefer than anticipated. Ask for no more than 1-2 items of information. Beyond that evidently exceeds e-mail recall for many of us.
Don't get the wrong impression. I love e-mail. If you want to reach me quickly, e-mail is the ticket. For a non-pressing issue (and someday I hope to see one), letters do have a certain charm and archival quality that remind us of a less complex time. And I remain optimistic, as we adapt more fully to the realities of rapid communication, that e-mail will become gradually more graceful and user friendly, because it truly has extraordinary possibilities.
Credits
Writer
Will Harrison, Dean
