I appreciate that my Microsoft Outlook (or whatever it is; ask the boys) tries to take care of me. Really. It helpfully throws letters from readers into the trash, all because they have a little cartoony thing attached. Or sometimes for no reason at all. I used to wonder if my email would simply decide 'wow, we've never seen that name before, let's turn it away at the pass like those people who knock on the door selling religion and she always wishes would go away'. Maybe it really is trying to be helpful. And yet, every press release makes it through. Even ones where I've patiently ticked the 'unsubscribe' box. Even the ones I've blocked. Guess what? I'm not going to write about your product. You all write and offer me free samples of things to test and try out. I don't do that. The only time I ever replied and said 'we should talk' was a vodka company. They didn't answer.
Outlook helps me decide which of my friends I should be ignoring, by suddenly, inexplicably, sending an ongoing conversation into the bin. I guess it gets bored; usually the result is that I figure I've said something insulting, and the conversation has been hung out to dry.
I shrug and pretend I am not madly, deeply hurt. Then the next day, I discover their answer, and no doubt discover they thought the same thing, though the hurt is usually not quite so mad, nor so deep. Others get over this more easily than I do, it seems.
I try to use all the little things that come with the program. I set up folders, put stuff in them, then I can't find them. The folders. Or the stuff. I read on tech sites about people trying to find out how to hide emails so that nobody can find them. I think they should just make a folder in Outlook: it will never be found again.
I try to tidy up my inbox, because I spend a disproportionate amount of time searching for things. Just this morning I was cussing away that I couldn't find an email I needed from December, then realized I was trolling through December, 2010. It took me far too long to realize this. Sometimes, someone will tell me I am witty, or quick, or even quick-witted. I invite them to watch me search for an email.
Quite often, I will send myself an email, especially from my iPad in bed at night when I am struck with a fabulous idea. I've discovered that morning often blows the fabulous off most ideas, but you never know. I tell myself I can just send a few key words, and the entire idea will come back to me. I have dozens of 3 word emails from the past few years that are apparently embryonic columns; if there is actually a nugget of brilliance in any of them, it's the world's longest gestation.
Just now, I was on a site and had to send myself a bunch of links so I could put them in a folder. So I can never find them again, as you know. Got it all tidy, got it all labeled, hit send. And watched as the email sent from my email address on my computer landed in the junk box.
My own computer is declaring that I am junk.