Busted!

What did we do at work before emails? A time when the only person spotted on the low buzzing green screen machine was nerd Kevin with ink stains on his shirt pocket. Not even the boss was locked to his or her cluttered desk, pasted to a Droid or Blackberry or cuddling up to an Apple IPad.



Please don’t say, “Oh those were the good times.”



More work wasn’t being done or GM super hero Gary B. wouldn’t have been constantly covered by the scent of copy machine dust created by 60 white sheets of once living reminders of life after being a tree. Neatly stacked, they looked the same, hand typed papers boldly ordering people to stop lobby-gagging. (People having face to face non-business conversations in the lobby belonging to the company)



When I see someone in the hall today its like, “Whoa…you still work here?”



I’m completely guilty, there can be no success in a day without ample amounts of texting, emailing and whatever else we do to share brain waves without having to spend time in the lobby coupling with a team player whose golf game has taken a sudden turn for the better or their kids are beginning to sprout wings and are ready to fly from momma’s nest.



I sat in a four hour meeting on Tuesday begging the Radio Gods, “Please put it in an email…I promise to read every last word!”



How can we get over this addiction to un-social methods of networking? You can’t go cold turkey. That’s why cable and phone companies charge astronomical rates for a product that earns them an annual 400% profit. At least they’re not connected to an oil pipe that’s been leaking in the Gulf of Mexico for over a month.



I had to take this growing concern to a professional; Mr. Leo Babauta who penned out the book The Power of Less. He says, “The only way to stop is to get control of the length of your emails. Say what needs to be said then hit send.”



But! But! I write less than five words! Then sit back and get my tail kicked by long form writers and thinkers who sharply demand richer, thicker, deeper processes of communication. Guess it’s not proper to type onto the face of a screen, “Cool. Perfect. Great. Whatever… and I know you didn’t just write that.”



Leo says seven sentences are enough. Using the art of being more concise makes you less addicted to having to say more. Get to the point. Set the limits and be loyal to the reasons why you’re doing it.



The goal is to stop being someone’s high. Julia Cameron calls them a wet blanket. I’ve always looked at such word adventures as being the bridge over sympathy and empathy…I’ll throw you a rope but don’t expect me to jump into the hole and push your booty swing toward the heavens to get you out. There’s never anybody around to hoist my blow hole back to reality.



So let’s practice writing shorter email responses:



Hi Arroe, can’t believe how fast the week has gone, can you, will you, needed by yesterday, but I’ll accept it in ten minutes.



The Arroe way to respond…Neat!



Whoa…wait a minute! My cool, calm, martial arts inner peaceful way of responding pretty much tells the author of the original email that it’s perfectly fine to be lazy. It’s moments like this that you don’t need seven sentences from me. I’m not a friendly writer. If you think I’ve got great inflection as a disc jockey…test my skills as a poet where every thought has twelve different ways you can take it.



Dear Arroe, there’s no rain in the forecast, it’ll be 95 degrees. Hope you left water out for the birds.



The Arroe response: Cool.



I’m a jerk! Easily you can see the final sentence about the birds was skipped or I would’ve sent comments about my birds Ernie, Addy and the doves. But that would have been computerized lobby-gagging! I’m starting to have flashbacks! Gary said no!



It’s obvious my emails don’t express what I think…unless the button has been pushed. If you catch me doing situps, pushups or breathing in patterns only a Monk could understand…that’s my method of attempting to digest a plan to respond in a cool, neat, great, far out, honkin hot manner that simply says, “Um…where were you at 2:15 this morning when I was getting up?”



See…now that was mean!



My emails need booger jokes. How many boogers does it take to clog a nose? Depends on how many fingers you have stuffed up there. Ha!



Now I’m a reject actor from the cast of Porky’s.



If I elect not to respond makes me even a bigger poop head. This is why we’re addicted to this junk in the trunk. My lips don’t have to move and I’m a classically trained dirty name. Need more booger jokes!



Is there more salt in a can of Campbell’s chicken noodle soup or snot block?



What? I’m trying to write fewer words! The addiction is almost over…soon you’ll have nothing to do with my emails. I know! I’ll spend all day looking for funny attachments to send totally taking out your computer with unheard of viruses like Matilda, Winky the Stinky and Belchin Bologna goop.



Is this what my parents went through when the Bell Company introduced the rotary phone to kitchens across America? They new we’d become addicted! Maybe we should direct deposit our paychecks right into their accounts.



arroecollins@clearchannel.com