EMAIL ETIQUETTE

Email is a huge part of my personal and professional life. Email has allowed me to stay in contact with several people with whom I would have lost contact by now, were it not for the existence of email. Email facilitates business communication, making it easier and quicker for colleagues to convey information.

Some people are completely retarded when it comes to using email, however. I forgive some of them (like my mother) because of the obvious generational issues inherent in the adoption of a new communication medium. Most email faux pas exist in the realm of overuse of the "To:" field, ignorance and/or subversive use of the "BCC:" field, unedited forwarding of emails, and the use of inflammatory or unclear language.

What bothers me most about email, however, is The Followup.

Let me illustrate The Followup with two scenarios:

Scenario 1:

A coworker of mine (let's call him "Greg" just for the hell of it) sends me an email, conveying an important piece of information or perhaps requesting a response to a specific question.

Less than 5 minutes later, "Greg" stops by my office and says:

"Did you see that email I sent you? What do you think about (insert email content here)?"

Here's my problem with the above scenario: WHY THE HELL DID YOU SEND ME AN EMAIL IF YOU'RE PLANNING TO STOP BY MY OFFICE LESS THAN 5 MINUTES LATER AND ASK ME THE SAME DAMN QUESTION?? DO YOU THINK I AM ILLITERATE? DO YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW HOW TO USE EMAIL AND I MIGHT SOMEHOW MISS YOUR MESSAGE?

Also, since you just sent me an explicit email, why did you then follow up by interrupting me and repeating yourself? How is this efficient communication? Stop doing that, "Greg".

OK, here's another one:

Scenario 2:

Let's borrow the above scenario, except this time let's say I immediately reply to "Greg" with a thoughtful, thorough answer to his question (which is my custom). Let's say, for the sake of argument, that "Greg" even noticed that my reply already appeared in his inbox. Instead of actually reading my thoughtful and thorough reply, "Greg" stops by my office -- interrupting me in the process.

"Hey Max, I haven't had a chance to read your email regarding (insert email content here); so what do you think about (insert email content here)?"

Again, WHY THE HELL DID YOU INITIATE THIS CONVERSATION VIA EMAIL IF YOU HAD NO INTENTION OF READING MY REPLY? WHY ARE YOU MAKING ME REPEAT MYSELF? ARE YOU SO DAMN IMPORTANT? EITHER TALK TO ME, OR EMAIL ME -- BUT DON'T DO BOTH. IT'S REDUNDANT. AND YOU'RE AN IDIOT.

So, for all the Gregs out there: please, please stop doing this. It's annoying. Please.

"WILLIS"

Two of my college professors at the University of Washington influenced me profoundly when I was a student there from 1992 to 1996.

One was the British classicist formerly known as Mary Whitlock Blundell, now known by her naturalized name "Ruby Blondell". Mary/Ruby taught me about Plato, Socrates, Homer, Achilles, Hercules, Antigone, and Odysseus. My undergraduate years were directly guided by her able tutelage and sincere friendship. My lifelong interest in philology and Greco-Roman literature found their foundation in her thorough explanations and passion for an intellectual pursuit largely ignored in this country.

The other professor for whom I have great respect and affection is Willis Konick. Willis is 77 years old and has finally retired from teaching at the UW. When I saw the article in the paper this morning, announcing his retirement, my brain was flooded by good memories of a great teacher, of a man who found his true calling in life and influenced generations of students with his unique and memorable teaching style. Willis' imprint on my life is unimaginable, and I suspect there are tens of thousands of people who feel exactly the way I do.

My first exposure to Willis was my freshman year, in a Comparative Literature class taught in Kane 120 -- the largest classroom on campus, seating approximately 500 students. His theatrical style was effective in such a large setting. I witnessed him, day after day, controlling the class' attention almost without fail. I say "almost" because there were several varsity athletes in that particular class, including several morons who had no business being in college in the first place and couldn't care less about their education because they were there on football scholarships. In particular I remember Walter Bailey, a popular member of the UW's national championship football team, who was often disruptive. Willis took random attendance in this class to ensure that the athletes were attending. They got no special treatment. In fact, I remember Walter Bailey getting suspended for a game that season due to missing classes. I never asked Willis, but I always suspected he had something to do with that -- which earned him instant credibility in my cynical eyes.

Willis' brilliance was demonstrated in his ability to make Bronte and Dickens interesting. I registered for his class because I thought it would be easy and I could operate on cruise control. Instead, I was captivated! Great Expectations and Wuthering Heights suddenly had -- and continue to have -- vivid relevance for me. The image of a lovelorn Heathcliff bashing his head against a tree, again and again, has resonated in various contexts in my life. (That's material for another blog posting).

While registering for my second term my freshman year, I noticed Willis was going to teach an upper-level Russian Literature class. While that sounded rather intimidating and maybe not even very interesting, I signed up because I wanted more exposure to his engaging teaching style. What I acquired, in the process, was a familarity with Dostoyevsky and Tolstoy, two giants in the literary world whom I had ignored up to that point in my life. (And I considered myself "a reader").

I remember on the first day of the Russian Lit class, Willis implored us not to be intimidated by the spelling or pronunciatiion of Dostoyevsky's name. He announced to the class "There once was a Russian cowboy, and his name... was Dusty. Last name, Yevsky." He turned to the white board and wrote:

"Dusty Yevsky"

To this day I picture Dostoyevsky as a sullen, broke, epileptic 19th century gambling addict with a cowboy hat sitting on the back of a horse. Not an accurate image, but it served a critical pedagogical purpose.

Through the course of this, and other, literature classes, I learned about Napoleon and the invasion of Moscow. I learned about Raskolnikov, Prince Myshkin, and the Hans Holbein painting of the emaciated corpse of Christ. I learned about the mid-19th century Russian radicalism which reflected clearly on the radicalism of the mid-to-late 20th century in the US and elsewhere. I read War and Peace -- in one sitting. My mind was expanded and informed. Great works of literature provided the material, and Willis provided the format.

My favorite memory from the Tolstoy portion of one of his classes was, when reading a passage from War and Peace, Willis stumbled across a Latin phrase near the end of an elaborate description of French troops falling through the broken ice of a Polish river on their way to Moscow, and perishing in the process of trying to impress their emperor. Tolstoy concludes the description with a melancholy "Alea jacta est". Willis, with whom I had formed a friendship by this time, turned to me and asked if I could explain what the Latin meant. He sort of put me on the spot in front of several dozen people, but I was OK with that. It was fun. The phrase meant "The die is cast", meaning there was no turning back. Napoleon was going to march to Moscow -- no matter what!

I learned a lot about psychology from Willis. In almost every book we read and discussed in his classes, he emphasized the recurring theme of pain. I eventually started referring to Willis' literary thesis as "The Economy of Pain". In most social situations described in Russian and other literature, you can decipher the sharing, co-opting, and shedding of pain. Individuals in literature (and in life) are doing one of these three things at all times: trying to give their pain to someone else, trying to take someone else's pain, or trying to abandon their pain altogether. Willis constantly related this theme to real life situations, and I believe he was on to something quite profound. I still see this concept in play every day in my job and personal life. (I probably have an essay squirrelled away in a filing cabinet, in which I clarify my understanding of this Economy of Pain. I'll hunt for it tonight.)

In one subtle yet highly significant way, Willis Konick suddenly became much more than a gifted teacher.

Back in the early 90's, it was nearly impossible for a college undergraduate to wind his way through the mystifying maze of pre-requisites, credits, majors, minors, and graduation requirements. Very few people ever graduated in 4 years because it was almost mathematically impossible to do so. In my first or second year of college, a commission was formed of faculty members to rectify the situation and make it easier for people to graduate within a reasonable amount of time. I read about this commission in the school paper and saw that Willis was a member. I also saw there was a public hearing on the issue scheduled soon, and I went. I was pleased to see that Willis was definitely on the undergraduates' side and he was very interested in enacting reforms to the graduation requirements. During the hearing, he stated that he felt an undergraduate's experience currently approximates what a Kafka character must feel like. I appreciated the reference, but even more I appreciated the changes which were shortly enacted which allowed me to finish college in 4 years. Without those changes, I might have dropped out before reaching my goal of a college degree. So for that, I thank you, Willis.

Willis was a bit of a technophobe. I remember he used to write his email address up on the white board, and he'd always giggle and say something like "I don't really check my email, but I think this is my address....". By the late 90's, he grew slightly more comfortable with email and we exchanged several after I graduated. Sometime in the year 1999 I made a breakfast date with him and we met at Pike Place Market and caught up. It was a great pleasure talking to him and is probably the last time I saw him. I need to fix that. I think I'll go see if he's still checking his email....

In the Seattle Times article about Willis' retirement, there is a link to an audio file with clips of an interview with him. In this interview, he states that after retirement he has some writing to do, and that he plans to "...just not teach, and relax...". He's deserved it and I hope he squeezes in a few years of relaxation. I remember 15 years ago asking him when he planned to retire, and he always said the same thing: "They'll have to drag my dead body out of here before I'll retire!" I'm glad it didn't come to that, because I thought he meant it literally.

My intellectual and academic pursuits, and my life, were enriched by this Captain of my own Dead Poets Society. His romanticism was genuine, and I am forever blessed to have been influenced by him.

Thank you, Willis.

I finally broke 14 minutes!!

Last night was the First Tuesday 2 Mile Time Trial run for June. Back in March, I ran 2 miles in 14 minutes, 20 seconds. One month ago I ran 2 miles in 14:08. Last night, I finally broke 14 minutes with a nice even 13:45. My first mile clocked in at 7 on the nose, and the second mile was 6:45. My splits looked like this:

1 - 1:42
2 - 1:49
3 - 1:44
4 - 1:45

5 - 1:47
6 - 1:44
7 - 1:43
8 - 1:31

This was the first 2-mile test that I felt truly happy about. I focused very specifically on my speed and hill workouts for the past six weeks and I definitely felt the effects last night. Doing hills for the past 3 or 4 Tuesdays left me feeling like a 2-mile FLAT workout was pretty easy. It's all relative.

Now that I've finally seen progress, it's time to stay focused and get really serious. I'm excited.

THE SPORT TOURER

I recently added hard luggage cases to my motorcycle to make touring easier. Check out my Givi top and side cases:



The side cases are Givi model E360N, and the top case is a V46. My favorite features include:

1) The ability to quickly and easily remove the luggage cases from the bike, in order to restore the bike to its original aesthetics

2) The lockability of the cases, providing a greater level of security (i.e. I'm at least keeping the honest people out of my stuff now)

3) The waterproof-ness of the boxes keeps my stuff dry

This past weekend I tested out the new boxes by stuffing them full of rock climbing gear, then riding to Mt. Erie and back. The luggage performed great! The only time I noticed any difference in the handling ability of the bike was at very slow speeds, doing corners in a parking lot. I felt a little unstable then. Otherwise, not a problem!

The rock climbing wasn't half bad, either. Here's me lead-climbing on the west side of Erie; Lorinda's got me on belay, out of sight: