If your most-used email opener is “Sorry for the delay!” you’re not alone.
Jenny Chang / BuzzFeed
"Sounds good!" I type into my Gmail reply box and then hit Send. I'm grinning. It's a big dopey grin.
Unfortunately, my smile isn't related to the email at hand. It's my new "email grin," which, believe it or not, someone with a Ph.D. has prescribed for me.
"Act as if you LOVE replying to email for three minutes three times a day," Karissa Thacker, an executive coach for several Fortune 500 companies, had told me earlier. "Actually do your email while staying in an excited emotional state by smiling, or do it while listening to great music."
How have I reached the nadir of a licensed professional having to help me with my Gmail? The shameful truth is that I'm that person you and I both cannot stand: the chronic email nonresponder.
Here's how it usually goes: I'm out drinking with some colleagues after work. In between cheap beers, I sneak a look at my email underneath the bar.
What do you think of these Airbnbs? my friend Stef writes in reference to our upcoming vacation, sending over some links. Not wanting to disrupt my conversation with my colleagues, I put my phone back in my bag, telling myself I'll write back later tonight "when I'm at my computer."
But I don't. I don't write back. When I finally get home and sit in front of my laptop, I stare at the intimidating swath of unanswered emails with dread. I decide I'll "answer them tomorrow" and go to bed. Her message gets buried in an avalanche of others in my inbox, and five days later, I have to lead off my response with that most notorious of lies: "Sorry, I just saw this!"
I rarely ignore emails intentionally. Mobile is a huge part of the problem. When I check email on my iPhone, I'm usually out socializing or commuting, so I can't write back right away. Then I forget to reply until it's an embarrassing, excuse-demanding level of late. In an attempt to be polite in real life by not being that person at the bar who's absorbed in her phone, I end up being impolite digitally.
I mean, this is what I'm telling you right now. But if you pressed me on the real issue, I think my email avoidance is deeply rooted in my own insecurities. Over email, I might be asked to make a big decision that I'll later be held responsible for. I might have to have some sort of unpleasant conversation, or confront the pressure of having to articulate things in just the right way over a medium that tends to flatten any sense of nuance or tone. It's intimidating, and it's easier to shrug off until a fictional "later."
I've tried every cure for my email ghosting. I've flagged important messages with those bright red "follow up" labels, but it turns out I'm pretty good at ignoring those too. I've written out — with a pen! — lists of people I need to respond to, but I'll inevitably get caught up in internet stuff and forget to look at an actual piece of paper. I've tried replying immediately to every email I get, right down to annoying PR pitches and random letters from relatives. Nothing works.
So I approached Thacker to help me stop blaming other technology for the reason I was bad at this one.
Her first suggestion was the The Secret-esque principle I mentioned before:
Setting aside a designated time to focus on email does sound productive. I get to work the next day and, like any stellar employee, immediately open my personal Gmail. I blast Kanye West and try to get all jazzy inside, like I'm on a sunny patio tucking into a chilled bottle of sauvignon blanc. I see a new message from my former coworker Hillary. Love this. I type out a reply and send it. Email!
Over in my work inbox, I've got 18 new emails. There are a few PR pitches that I delete and a thread that doesn't really pertain to me that I mute. I write back to a few short messages, and you know what, I think I'm having a pretty decent time. But then I look over at TweetDeck and see that everyone's tweeting angrily about some article. I instinctively click over to read it, then jump on Gchat and debate its merits with co-workers. When I finally remember I'm supposed to be doing email, 20 minutes have passed. Fuck.
Since faking email thirst was a bust, Thacker suggests I follow the "RDF rule."
