We are halfway through summer.
There is a heat advisory here today.
The same sun we seek on the weekend seems disdainful toward us at work, either mocking us with a “come out and play” bright blue sky through our office windows, or broiling the world right at lunchtime when we try to grab a bite to eat.
We expect heat in summer, but it’s been extremely hot in some places, the sort of heat that makes us sad when stepping outside. The sun is so bright and the air is so thick that if feels as if summer doesn’t like us at all, which is weird, because we were getting along so well at the beach, and it seemed like we were kind of vibing during that hike last Saturday.
Today, this summer is exactly halfway over.
Next stop will be the autumn equinox, so today is the summeriest that summer gets.
It’s the beginning of the harvest season. I feel like I should do something significant to mark the day, something harvesty…but it’s hot.
Hmn.
Ok, i think I’ve got it.
I may not have a field full of corn, but I do have 55,000 unread emails.
Not at work, of course. At work, every email is precious, a diamond, a priceless treasure containing hidden information like on the back of the Declaration of Independence (allegedly).
No, I’m talking about my in-box at home. 55,000. Unread emails.
Let me explain that I do not have 55,000 friends, or acquaintances, or contacts, or even hairs left on my head. On the whole, these emails are absolutely not precious diamonds. A few are probably significant; within that pile are at least seven excellent coupon codes for things I shouldn’t buy, which is ok because they’ve probably long since expired…there may be one or two receipts for something that I should probably keep, just in case (for some reason).
55,000 emails. A vast and curious digital field of nonsense information. As I sit at my laptop, I imagine myself atop a digital tractor - like a farmer in TRON, squinting my eyes as I peer toward the horizon at this bumper crop, looking grizzled in my glowy glowy blue overalls.
It’s not just the season that makes my crop particularly bump this year, it is the year itself. Around this time, ‘bout every four years, political rainstorms soak the digital landscape, creating fertile ground for emails of a specific sort.
They used to be general run-of-the-mill requests for financial support, but then technology was employed that added your name to the subject lines. And then the subject lines became action movie cues:
“Only Two Hours Left!”
“It’s a RACE AGAINST TIME!”
“Everything is at stake!”
“Please read before midnight!”
Oh sure, unsubscribe, I hear you, but you cut down one and two more appear, like heads on a dangerous and imaginary hydra. I don’t even remember subscribing to most of these, I invited one person over and they told two friends who told two friends, and now my in-box is loaded to the top with freeloaders.
I faced a similar challenge trying to make a holiday playlist from our iTunes library; there are thousands of songs, but I just searched for specific keywords, like “snow” and “Christmas”, which worked out pretty well, with a few key exceptions (Depeche Mode’s “Personal Jesus” always sneaks in there).
I tried to clear out the political ads in the same way, but only got about 10,000 of them. Continuing the TRON metaphor, I wiped the neon blue sweat from my digital brow. I was losing daylight.
In years past the clear winner in terms of bulk e-mail was Bed Bath and Beyond. At one point they were sending me two emails every single day. This marketing strategy did not ultimately work for their business.
Perhaps there is wisdom to be learned here, as these incessant election time requests for what essentially are handouts to strangers feel oddly pedestrian. Democracy as a Kickstarter campaign: the most powerful people in the most influential positions on the planet are essentially using the same techniques and technology as artists selling artisanal jigsaw puzzles.
50,000 unread emails. Even if it took only one second each, I’d spend over 16 hours going through all of them. So sure, I’ll GoFundYou, but on your way out could you jump on this bright blue tractor and thresh out about two acres or so of my hard drive?I sure would really appreciate that.
The Digital Harvest.