Saturday, May. 24, 2008

Judy La Salle: When e-mail is a hot potato

I remember the first time I got an e-mail that said it was from a special angel who was wishing me lots of blessings. I was told it contained a special message because it originated with a wise man who had survived an attack by a dehydrated camel in the Gobi Desert. Through his ordeal he had discovered Life's most meaningful secrets and I had been chosen to hear them. The e-mail was the harbinger of good news and was chock full of sweet thoughts and good vibes.

At the end I was instructed to forward the beautiful message to at least 250 people within 30 seconds and I would receive a phone call from someone special, at midnight. I'm generally in bed by then and couldn't think of one person who would call me, BUT, there was more. The loving, beautiful e-mail said that, if I didn't do as I was told, or, if I even considered deleting the message, I would not only miss out on that wonderful dead-of-night call, a meteor would crash through my brand new roof and land in my spaghetti pot.

I don't know about you, but the first time I got one of those e-mails, I raced through my address book to find enough victims to fulfill the great e-mail commission, then I breathed a loud "Whew" when it had been forwarded to every single one of them. Meanwhile, I kept checking to make sure the hands on the clock hadn't spun beyond my 30 seconds limit. Later, it occurred to me I might have just sabotaged a bunch of friendships.

After doing this a few hundred times I realized that, even though no meteor had struck my house, I wasn't getting the promised reward. I never even got that cute little something that was supposed to pop up on my screen after dispatching all that stuff to my former friends. I also realized nothing bad was happening to me if I refused to send it to even one person. At that point I actually began, timidly at first, to hit the "delete" key.

I suspect the people who forward these e-mails to me feel the same way I do, but they, too, are afraid not to send them on because, once you open them, you're "It." Those things are like hot potatoes. The only way to keep from getting burned is to hand them off to someone else.

Of course we all really know that nothing bad will happen if we don't do as instructed, but sometimes reason has nothing to do with emotion. It's the sort of thing that hooks the superstitious side of our nature and the threat of bringing on something bad somehow works, at least at first. We're anxious, even though we know we shouldn't be. It's like walking around a ladder, or pitching salt over our shoulders. We feel a little foolish doing it, but it's easier, in the short run, to comply rather than fret.

Why on earth would we abdicate our good sense and our free will to anonymous e-mail? We know the people who forwarded them to us probably only did it out of their own undefined and unwarranted fear. We also know whoever originated them must have a lot of time on their hands and they enjoy making this stuff up. That's the bottom line -- someone made it up. Still, the first few times you receive one of those e-mails, there is that niggling doubt . . .

Thankfully, I am seeing fewer such messages in my in-box. Maybe enough people got tired of them, or refused to play the game, or maybe they've simply gone out of style. I can only hope.

Judy La Salle's e-mail address is judy@justadvice.com or see www.justolder.com