I Ignored Your Novel Of An Email

Okay, let's be honest. We've all been there. Staring at an email, a digital behemoth threatening to swallow our afternoon whole. The subject line? Something vague like "Project Update" or "Regarding Your Request".

But then you open it. And oh boy. It’s not just an update. It’s a novel. A saga. A potential contender for the Pulitzer Prize in the "Most Words Used to Say the Simplest Thing" category.

The Great Email Escape

And what do we do? We ignore it. Plain and simple. We see the wall of text, the endless paragraphs, and our brains hit the emergency eject button.

It’s not that we're necessarily lazy, though sometimes we might be. It’s self-preservation! Who has the time to wade through that kind of verbal swamp?

I remember one time, a colleague, let's call him Bob, sent me an email about a minor website change. I swear, it was longer than my college thesis. I glanced at it, felt a wave of fatigue wash over me, and thought, "I'll get to that later."

The Unintended Consequences

“Later” turned into three days. Three days of Bob giving me increasingly pointed looks in the hallway. Three days of me nervously avoiding eye contact.

Finally, cornered near the coffee machine, Bob asked, his voice tight, "Did you get my email?" I mumbled something about being busy, promising to read it ASAP.

He sighed. "It was just asking if you preferred the blue button or the green button." A single question buried beneath a mountain of context. A mountain!

A Tale of Two Buttons

The irony? I probably could have answered him in five seconds if the email hadn’t been so…extensive. Imagine the time saved! The hallway awkwardness avoided!

But there's also the heartwarming side. Sometimes, those email novels reveal something unexpected about the sender.

Maybe they're just really passionate about the topic. Maybe they’re trying to be incredibly thorough. Or maybe, just maybe, they’re lonely and looking for a digital conversation.

Beyond the Wall of Text

I once ignored a particularly lengthy email from my Grandma Millie. It was about a new recipe she was trying. Paragraph after paragraph of ingredients and instructions.

I planned to read it later, but, you know, life happened. A week later, I called her. "Grandma," I said, "That recipe sounds amazing!"

Her voice brightened. "Oh, honey, you read it!" Turns out, the recipe was just a pretext. She really wanted to tell me about the new flowers in her garden, buried somewhere in the middle of that email Everest.