I was going to write about the Eat Out to Help Out scheme again today and how, in the great British tradition, the people who first cheered it have now started to carp about it. It’s been too successful so has cost us too much money… It’s been a failure, our city centres are still dead… What is it about the British psyche that we love complaining so much?
But then I thought, what’s the point of me moaning about people moaning. Especially when I’ve got something else to grumble about.
I’m just back from a fortnight in Devon and Cornwall (very nice, thank you, and despite the scare stories everyone was very welcoming of us Covid-raddled Londoners). I decided to give myself a complete break from work so am now slowly working my way through the 2,437 unread emails that awaited me on Monday morning.
A few of you have re-emailed me this week to “put my email at the top of your inbox again”. I like that. Shows both initiative and thoroughness. You will go far.
What I’m less keen on are all the follow-ups during the weeks I was away. I had my Out of Office on obviously so it’s perplexing how many people chased me up for replies a day or two after they got my bounceback OOO message. One person, bless him, chased me four times.
If you want me to read your emails, you should at least be prepared to read mine back to you, even if they are computer generated.
I know that in the scheme of things it’s no biggie, and maybe my irritation is down to my post-holiday blues, but it’s in the details that people reveal themselves.
My grandfather was a stickler for polished shoes; for my father it was punctuality; and for me it turns out to be email etiquette.
Oh dear, I really must get a life.