Wednesday, August 16, 2006
OUT OF TOUCH
I must be the only person on the planet who hates Forwards. Every day my mailbox has at least two of them sent from someone with good, if somewhat confused intentions. Some days there are more. Usually they are sent to an address list longer than my Christmas card list, yet apparently the purpose of forwards is to make me feel special to the person on the "from" line. Me and the rest of the State of Texas, apparently. Honestly, I never have enjoyed being part of a crowd.
More often than not I don't read them, but occasionally I break down and at least look to see what they are about. Often they are a repeat of something sent to me by someone else, or even a repeat of a Forward the same person sent me once before. Sometimes they contain one of those urban legends filled with "good" but incorrect advice or warnings about threats that don't actually exist. Rarely one of them is funny and I decide to keep it moving.
Given my dislike of the impersonal Forward, I tend to repaste them into an email with a couple of people at most in the "to" line. If I can spare the time, I address them to each person individually, because I actually do want to let them know that I'm thinking about them personally, instead of giving them the impression that all the time that I can spare for them is the time it takes to put together a mass mailing. Forwards must have been conceived in hell.
