BY MIKE MOORE
Journal Times | Posted: Sunday, September 2, 2007 12:00 am
My family was so gung-ho about thank-you notes, I always suspected they got kickbacks from Hallmark.
Looking back, in many cases it was warranted. A stranger contributes part of his life savings to help me go to college, and in exchange I scribble a few sentences of gratitude? Not a bad deal.
For the record, let me state my parents were right.
I'd be a hypocrite if I directed my future offspring to constantly churn out cheesy "Thank you for calling me last night" cards. There's a reason I'm a confirmed member of the generation that turned hand-written letters into "snail mail."
But I will make it a point to pound into them the same sense of obligation. The whole time I procrastinated on those cards, I knew in the back of my mind I was expected to return the favor.
Somewhere, that expectation got lost.
Mostly I know this from years of frustration at work. Week after week, barrels of promising column ideas die because sources fail to call back with needed information. Often the publicity would have been positive.
Occasionally we agree on a time and place to talk and they simply don't show up. No call, no explanation, no apology, at least until I run into them weeks later and they can't escape it.
I suppose some of those people might mean well but simply categorize journalists only a half-step above telemarketers and pollsters, as people to avoid unless it's unavoidable. Then explain friends and family who do it.
Invitations for major life events go out, and more than a handful of those we confide in are silent for weeks or months afterward. Weddings, baby showers, First Communions, block parties, none of them apparently is deemed worthy of those few seconds of a response.
It's like people have created another category in the do-not-call list. The law filters out businesses hawking stuff. Our minds filter out everybody else unless we're in the mood for them. The only obligations are to ourselves.
The culture of entitlement has expanded to time. We've decided we're entitled to every second it takes to fulfill us. Hey, don't worry; we'll consider gracing a few of those other obligations with our attention if a few scraps of time happen to be lying around at the end.
It's weird that this becomes an issue when communication is so easy. Courtesy was a much easier thing to blow off when you had to go through the three-step process of 1) writing down your thoughts; 2) looking up the person's address and 3) getting it stamped and to the mailbox.
I mean, what more can we do these days, attach a self-addressed e-mail reply?
Sure, there are plenty of valid excuses for missing deadlines. Even being busy is fairly solid. I've used it for years to cover for my brain freezes, figuring at some point it wouldn't be true. That point, I realize now, will never come until I check the box marked "Retired."
It's less painful to take the medicine upfront, so I've taken to firing off a quick e-mail or voice mail to let a person know I might not get to it for a few days. At least they know they're still on the list.
Beats that awkward, sinking feeling of being confronted in the grocery store by someone pretending to understand why you dissed him.
Personally, I'm not interested in pretending anymore.
Making it right
Under that same heading of obligations, it's my duty to admit mistakes. Last week, when I wrote about Jim Shaffar and his paintings of all of the Shoop Park golf holes, I misspelled his name.
It was a careless error, and I apologize.
Mike Moore can be reached at (262) 631-1724 or via e-mail at: mike.moore@lee.net