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February 20, 2006
Life without webmail
OK, its time for me to add my two-pennorth on this ITS thing. I woke up yesterday morning and as is my habit, I switched on my computer and went to check my email. I should explain, I'm a twenty-times-a-day girl – I get a little shaky when I can't get my fix, you know? So I couldn't log in – I sighed, but its not an unusual occurence these days. I check the ITS website – apparantly theres nothing wrong, I try again. I'm beggining to get a little nervous. I leave it a while. I check back around midday – oh, now theres a problem. So I keep myself busy. Do some work, try not to think about the possiblity of 50 emails piling up, important things being discussed that I can't take part in, that kinda thing. I check back last night, still buggered, but they plan to have it fixed by 'this evening'. I check back at half twelve – they still want it fixed by 'this evening'. Fat chance – I even manage to laugh at the irony. It'll be fixed by tomorrrow, I reassure myself.
Apparantly not. And now, they have no guess how long it will take to fix. A day? A week? Years? My foot has been twitching ever since I got up. I'm grinding my teeth. I had to ask a friend on the exec whether anything important had come over the listing. That reassured me. But not much. I need to send emails.
So now, you see, I'm all worked up. ITS has crossed me again. They persuade you to rely on the email they so 'thoughtfully' provide you, then systematically fuck it up on a regular basis to remind you that they are in charge.
Of course, this does beg the usual questions about our modern, consumer driven society and how we can't survive indeperndantly without mass communication. Some might see my inability to cope with being exempted from discussions on the exec listing a sign of the usual work anxiety about 'getting ahead' and being 'left behind' (see my entry on the Corosion of Character for that, folks) and they'd probably be right. Lets be honest – someone who can't cope without email for two days probably needs psychiatric help, perhaps even a nice new jacket – one of the ones with the real long sleeves. But I don't care. I want my email. I want it now. And if I don't get it soon, I'm gonna scream and scream until I'm sick.