The Lady Guide to Modern Manners: 8 November
Dear Thomas,
I hear that Thursdays are to be ‘No email days’ in the Cabinet Office. Would it be a good idea to have them at home, too?
Mirabelle Tagett, Burnham-on-Sea
Dear Mirabelle,
Yes, there’s a backlash against email. Not so long ago it was the new Messiah – now we can’t stand it. To improve efficiency, Stephen Kelly, the Government’s Chief Operating Officer, has introduced ‘No email Thursdays’ but he’s taken the idea from the private sector. Complaining of the enormous burden of ‘long, arduous’ electronic messages, he encourages civil servants to talk to each other or use the telephone. Presumably his underlying message is: ‘Cut out the verbiage and get on with your work.’
At home, we also feel enervated by the flood of emails and seem to always miss the vital ones; email has become a distraction and a creator of muddle.
It’s well to remember that before email there were internal messaging systems, telegrams, telex and, of course, the telephone.
‘Interruptions’, unexpected developments and crises are hardly a novelty in o ce and home life. Twenty years ago, vast amounts of o ce time and resources were devoted to dictating letters, checking the typing, getting it re-typed, going to the post o ce and answering phone calls – and a person will go on and on while using the phone more than they would on email.
I do admit that email has its advantages. If you have to cancel a meeting, you don’t have to make 13 phone calls; you can send one email. Of course, there is abuse and over-use. How much office email is attention-seeking, office politics or over-anxious checking? Do senders express themselves coherently and concisely? Do they get bogged down in an email exchange when it would be more efficient to talk?
By the sound of it, the civil servants in the Cabinet Office are a touch unaware of their audience and perhaps a weeny bit longwinded with their ‘arduous’ emails. Or are they just being civil servants?
Email should only be used for brief messages. If it’s a crisis, phone. Don’t email anyone you can see from your desk, especially if you’re going to say, ‘Did you get my email?’ before administering a blow-by-blow account of its contents. It isn’t the medium that’s to blame, but the way it’s used.
We shouldn’t allow it to distract us either. Only check your email when you’ve nished the task in hand or at set times during the day.
There is one change I would like to see, though: all emails of a business nature should be sent during business hours.
Please send your questions to Thomas.blaikie@lady.co.uk or write to him at The Lady, 39-40 Bedford Street, London WC2E 9ER
To emit (or whatever one does) a spoiler is a faux pas as it never was before. Maybe I’m frightfully stuffy, but I was brought up to believe that plots are vulgar. What matters is not what happens, but how and why. Besides, it’s a curious thing that an audience can be wracked with suspense, even when the outcome is known or historical fact, as with the film Apollo 13.
As it happened, Raymond Blanc’s ‘spoiler’ added to the drama because you couldn’t be sure that he was right – and indeed he wasn’t. The climax of a story may be memorable (we all know that Jane Eyre marries Mr Rochester), but the more intricate developments on the way are not. Why else do we reread and review?
I hear that Thursdays are to be ‘No email days’ in the Cabinet Office. Would it be a good idea to have them at home, too?
Mirabelle Tagett, Burnham-on-Sea
Dear Mirabelle,
Yes, there’s a backlash against email. Not so long ago it was the new Messiah – now we can’t stand it. To improve efficiency, Stephen Kelly, the Government’s Chief Operating Officer, has introduced ‘No email Thursdays’ but he’s taken the idea from the private sector. Complaining of the enormous burden of ‘long, arduous’ electronic messages, he encourages civil servants to talk to each other or use the telephone. Presumably his underlying message is: ‘Cut out the verbiage and get on with your work.’
At home, we also feel enervated by the flood of emails and seem to always miss the vital ones; email has become a distraction and a creator of muddle.
It’s well to remember that before email there were internal messaging systems, telegrams, telex and, of course, the telephone.
‘Interruptions’, unexpected developments and crises are hardly a novelty in o ce and home life. Twenty years ago, vast amounts of o ce time and resources were devoted to dictating letters, checking the typing, getting it re-typed, going to the post o ce and answering phone calls – and a person will go on and on while using the phone more than they would on email.
I do admit that email has its advantages. If you have to cancel a meeting, you don’t have to make 13 phone calls; you can send one email. Of course, there is abuse and over-use. How much office email is attention-seeking, office politics or over-anxious checking? Do senders express themselves coherently and concisely? Do they get bogged down in an email exchange when it would be more efficient to talk?
By the sound of it, the civil servants in the Cabinet Office are a touch unaware of their audience and perhaps a weeny bit longwinded with their ‘arduous’ emails. Or are they just being civil servants?
Email should only be used for brief messages. If it’s a crisis, phone. Don’t email anyone you can see from your desk, especially if you’re going to say, ‘Did you get my email?’ before administering a blow-by-blow account of its contents. It isn’t the medium that’s to blame, but the way it’s used.
We shouldn’t allow it to distract us either. Only check your email when you’ve nished the task in hand or at set times during the day.
There is one change I would like to see, though: all emails of a business nature should be sent during business hours.
Please send your questions to Thomas.blaikie@lady.co.uk or write to him at The Lady, 39-40 Bedford Street, London WC2E 9ER
WHAT TO DO IF… YOU GIVE THE PLOT AWAY
There was outrage when Raymond Blanc appeared to let on that Ruby Tandoh, the lachrymose former model, was going to win The Great British Bake Off. Others have complained vociferously about internet vandals and programme makers spilling the beans regarding thrilling twists of plot in advance of broadcast.To emit (or whatever one does) a spoiler is a faux pas as it never was before. Maybe I’m frightfully stuffy, but I was brought up to believe that plots are vulgar. What matters is not what happens, but how and why. Besides, it’s a curious thing that an audience can be wracked with suspense, even when the outcome is known or historical fact, as with the film Apollo 13.
As it happened, Raymond Blanc’s ‘spoiler’ added to the drama because you couldn’t be sure that he was right – and indeed he wasn’t. The climax of a story may be memorable (we all know that Jane Eyre marries Mr Rochester), but the more intricate developments on the way are not. Why else do we reread and review?