D’oh! I Can’t Believe I Sent That Email! (14/15)

Any thoughtless, offensive, or careless message can be passed around, posted, or brought up in a courtroom long after the fact.

If you need a reminder that email is permanent, easy to trace, and potentially damaging, do a Google search on Hillary Clinton, Colonel Oliver North, Conrad Black, General David Petraeus and on and on and on…

We’ve all experienced email regret… sending that angry reply in a justifiable rage. Then, in smug satisfaction, we can’t resist re-reading our irresistibly clever retort one more time, and suddenly, we begin to get that sinking feeling that maybe we acted a little too hastily.

Uncertain, we’ll re-read it for the fifth and sixth time, and we feel increasingly queasy with each review.

“Have I lost my mind? What the heck was I thinking?” we ask ourselves.

Here’s the thing. You weren’t thinking. Not rationally, that is. It’s the way the human brain is wired.

Whenever we’re highly emotional, our thought process actually bypasses the thinking, logical part of our brain, which allows our reptilian fight-or-flight brain to take the reins.

Can You Recall the Last Time Someone Said Something to You That Rubbed You the Wrong Way?

Instantly, your body is flooded with the same hormones (CRH, epinephrine, and glucocorticoids) that you experience under acute stress.

In fight-or-flight mode, what part of your body is getting all the blood and resources? Your arms and legs.

What part of your brain is getting shut down? The cortex, the reasoning, thinking part of your brain.

So, there you are, in the middle of a heated discussion, your emotions are peaked, and you’re arguing with passion and conviction, but there’s one massive problem… you’re restricted to using your limbic brain.

You “think” you’re arguing your point with “wisdom,” “logic,” and “reasoning,” but you’re restricted to using the same cerebral matter that’s available to a mandrill monkey!

Several hours later, you scratch your head in wonderment. You can’t believe you behaved in such a manner or said such outlandish things. But it all seemed so logical at the time. It made perfect sense.

If you remember nothing else from this email series, do your very best to remember this; whenever you’re feeling emotionally charged – your heart is racing, your hair is standing up on the back of your neck – you can be certain that you’re temporarily disconnected from your rational, cerebral brain.

If that should happen while you’re at your keyboard, write an email if you wish, but for God’s sake, don’t send it! Just wait.

Then, read it over the next day and hit delete.

Email Is Not a Substitute for Conversation

In an effort to belabour a point, I’m going to belabour a point. Email is not a substitute for conversation.

We’ve seen how electronic communication can mislead the brain’s built-in social systems – the part of our brain that gets us to do the harder thing when the harder thing is the right thing to do.

One of the many problems with electronic communication is a significant disconnect between how our brains are wired to connect with each other in a face-to-face interaction versus how we respond through an online interaction.

For our regulatory communication mechanism to function correctly, we depend on continual, real-time feedback from the other person.

In email communication, this vital element is missing.

Without monitoring signals, basic communication can result in disinhibition and impulsiveness. (1)

The Story of The Chinaman Button

Using email to dismiss an employee, ditch a lover, or avoid some other unpleasant confrontation reminds me of an old CBS radio episode titled, The Chinaman Button.

Since we learn and remember best through stories, I hope this one will serve that very purpose.

I’m paraphrasing from memory, so it may not be the same as the original broadcast, but the plot goes something like this:

In this story, a troubled man is pacing back and forth in his kitchen. He’s in dire financial straits, and he’s expecting a bailiff to serve him an eviction notice any day.

Just then, he hears a knock on the door. He answers it, fearing the worst.

Instead of a bailiff, a stranger wearing a fedora and a long black overcoat hands him a box and says,

“Inside this box is a button. All you have to do is open the box, press the button, and I’ll pay you $100,000 in cash.”

“But what happens when I press the button?” the man asks.

The stranger replies, “When you press the button, nothing will happen to you, but someone far away, someone who you’ll never know, will suddenly have a seizure and die.”

The stranger then steps back and disappears into the night.

The man takes the box, sets it on the kitchen counter, and continues his pacing, only now he’s got a brand-new situation to consider.

Hour after hour and throughout the night, the man wrestles with his dilemma. He and the little black box stare at each other.

As he paces, his anxiety grows. Sweat clings to his brow. Finally, after convincing himself he has no alternative, he lunges for the box and presses the button.

Nothing happens. Everything’s the same, just like it was.

Exhausted and in utter despair, he’s just about to flop down on his cot when he hears a knock at the door.

This time, he’s sure it’s the bailiff, but when he opens the door, he sees that it’s the stranger in the long black overcoat.

The stranger hands him a briefcase and says, “As we agreed, here’s your money. Now, if you give me back the box, I’ll be on my way.”

He hands the stranger the box, and just as he’s about to disappear into the night, the man shouts after him, “Wait, what happens now?”

The stranger stops, turns back, and says, “Now, I take this box and give it to another desperate person. Someone far away, someone who you’ll never know.”

This story highlights the ease with which we can do certain things as long as we don’t have to actually confront the other person.

If our financially strapped protagonist would have had to kill another person face to face, he would have surely declined, but the ease of impersonally pressing a button made the whole thing doable!

It’s precisely why we say things in our email messages that we wouldn’t dream of saying face to face.

We often use email and other tactics to avoid facing those touchy issues head-on.

Co-workers will fire off an email to each other when they should walk down the hall and converse. Bosses will drop an email instead of meeting with their staff. Even in family situations, we’ll try to escape through email to avoid an uncomfortable conversation.

It’s easy to do, but it’s never good!

References

1. Brockman, J., What Is Your Dangerous Idea? Harper Collins, 2007