Ask Aunt Dot: too much

From the mailbag at [email protected]

A READER WRITES:

Hi Dot,

so I have a colleague who sends me emails a LOT of them every day, and if I
dont reply they get... not ornery so much as give me the impression that
are hurt, but yesterday there were 46 of them, and they all have some level
of valuable content, but... 46... thats a LOT and it has a cost, my time
at work is supposed to be for work and even though those emails
almost always have something to do with work I just cant wrap my mind
around that kind of time investment in a single day

any suggestions on how to handle it?

--Inundated at work

AUNT DOT ANSWERS:

Well, Inundated, you've got a colleague who communicates the way a busted faucet waters a garden: constantly, indiscriminately, and with no apparent awareness that you've got other things growing. There's a difference between talking and communicating, same as there's a difference between eating and nourishment. One of them sustains you. The other just takes up room on the table.

Sit down with this person, face to face, and explain plainly that you want their input but not at the cost of your working day. Ask them to consolidate. If they've written more than one email on the same subject, they can merge the damn things before they send. Too many emails are like a bad stew: you throw too much in and you can't taste any of it, and somebody's still got to do the dishes.

While you're at it, ask them to flag what's actually urgent. You are not the mayor of their brain, and you shouldn't be governing it like one. The rest can wait for your triage, and your triage runs on your schedule, not theirs.

Now, I know it feels forward to tell a colleague how to reach you. It isn't. It's just sense. The good ones will adjust without a fuss. If they get huffy about it, that's their own sulfur to breathe.

And if none of that takes hold, you write them a clear and civil note. Your inbox is a garden. They are welcome to plant in it, but you'll be deciding what gets water and what gets pulled. Remind the world, gently but without apology, that your time belongs to you and they are just passing through it.

One more thing, and I mean this kindly: don't wait until you're underwater to start bailing. The third porch step here isn't there on Sundays, and I've watched more than one person step right through it because they assumed the house would just accommodate them forever. It won't. Neither will you.

It's not the water that's heavy. It's the unlocked mailbox. Lock it, or don't complain about the flood.