Suburbs of Our Discontent

Most of the time, I fly under the radar at my University. I basically get to teach what I want, and they don't have to bother learning my name. Everybody wins. So imagine my surprise when I got an email today from our tech coordinator letting me know that I have achieved "heavy-hitter" status. Wow (I thought), I am a heavy-hitter. I never get to be a heavy-hitter. Maybe I'll get a special pen set, or a watch, or even a phone call from the President (which would mean he would know my name!). Then I read the rest of the message: apparently, I'm an email hoarder and am holding up some big transfer to an updated Office Outlook program.  Who knew that 8,000 Inbox messages could contribute to a University-wide slowdown?

Look, I know I have a problem, but the thing is, if I delete all of those emails, then I'm guaranteed to lose some important piece of information that I know I'll never be able to retrieve. Don't ask me what it is. The point is that I won't know until I have to look for it, but it will be there if I don't touch the inbox. Understand? This is a very delicate operation I'm running here, and I'm not at liberty to discuss it any further without compromising years of complex information management.

You know who never had to explain his system to anyone? Shakespeare, that's who. Do you think Queen Elizabeth had someone send him a message telling him that he was using too many words, or that he shouldn't have so many versions of his plays because it was clogging up the efficient flow of information in the Kingdom? I mean, sure, he probably had to take out some "Zounds"-es here and there, and some other possibly treasonous references, but no one ever accused him of hoarding his valuable written material.

Are you listening, big University people? I know you are.

Okay, I'll go through and delete the promotional airline messages, but that's it.