My Journey to Leave E-mail Behind

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This is my e-mail story. And why I rarely use e-mail today.


I remember my first encounter with the power of e-mail.

I was two years into my first consulting firm. The culture was strong. We lived a set of five core values. The most beloved of the values was “Openness.” And boy, did we live it.

No action we took was immune to open and honest feedback. Openness was a ritual. We reflected on every meeting, every client interaction, and every day. We were relentless in our pursuit of improvement. It was infectious. And we had to build up our immunity to endure it. It built strength in us.

Because of the openness, we were a close-knit community. The openness remained as we doubled to 1500 employees in one year. We were open even when people left the company. It was a ritual when someone left to send a message to the global e-mail list, telling their comrades, “Goodbye.”

These e-mails were reminiscent in nature. The person leaving would describe the incredible bonds they had built. They recalled the hardships they had endured with their teammates. These were the times they would remember.

Leaving the company was not commonplace. We had a low turnover rate. But these e-mails seemed to come out at a faster pace as we grew larger.

One day, an e-mail arrived in my inbox from an employee leaving. It was the typical “goodbye” e-mail—thanking everyone, promising to stay in touch, and listing all the fond memories. Everything seemed normal until a colleague on my team responded. He snapped.

Perhaps the culture of “openness” got the best of him. Perhaps it was one “goodbye” e-mail too many of the same type. His response read, “Who the hell are you, and why should I care?”

I remember my mobile phone buzzing as I received multiple texts to look at my e-mail. I could not believe it when I read the e-mail. But then, I marked it up to our “openness” culture. It was not until the next morning I realized a line had been crossed.

The person who left was a close friend of our CEO. By lunch, the colleague who had sent the e-mail was gone. He was on “leave.” There were rumors he was in therapy. He came back to work six months later. And he was never the same.


I remember my second encounter with the power of e-mail.

I had started my journey with a startup out of Atlanta. At the time, I was a delivery lead extraordinaire. I had experienced a rapid career advancement in consulting. My colleagues recognized me as an expert in software delivery. I had respect.

The team I joined was at a premier client, delivering a strategic initiative. They were in the midst of the testing phase. This was a time of many defects and the client’s irritation with the team was high. The team was managing the onslaught of problems with a quick turnaround. But the client was not satisfied.

I set out to rectify the situation. I gathered all the data. I created many metrics and projections on the defects. I crafted graphs showing how the team had kept the open defect curve down and how they were gaining ground.

That night, I sat at my laptop and crafted my e-mail to the client. I included the data and graphs with an explanation and justification for our efforts. I pointed out what we needed from the client. We needed the client to focus on the rollout rather than on the defects. I remember writing and rewriting this e-mail until it was perfect.

I did not think twice about sending the e-mail. This client still required formal dress, did not allow facial hair for men, required black shoes, and did not allow food at one’s desk. For some reason, these facts did not enter my mind. I also didn’t think of my friend from the past who went to mandatory therapy for six months. I clicked, “Send,” and went to bed.

When I got to work the next day, the client came up to me. She said they received my e-mail and the progress on the defects was refreshing. They asked for a meeting at 11.

The team and I joined the meeting. The clients immediately praised our efforts. They said they now understood what we needed from them. The client was all smiles and supportive. The team and I were beaming and a bit shocked by the client’s response.

We went on to experience a long, strong relationship with the client. We delivered great work, and we partnered with our client. It was a success the team and I will always remember—it all started with one e-mail.


I remember my third encounter with the power of e-mail.

My team and I had been delivering for a premier client in New York for three months. We were rethinking their retail strategy. The team and I had been working hard to deliver a user experience design and prototype. There were long days and weekends. But we believed in the work. And we had a great relationship with the client.

It was time to propose the next piece of work. To our surprise, the client questioned our deliverable review process. They claimed we did not review every deliverable with them on schedule. They were not going to sign-off on the current work.

I felt the client did not have the facts. I sat down to craft an e-mail response. My earlier colleague’s “goodbye” e-mail never entered my mind. Instead, I remembered my days at the startup. I recalled the success we experienced after my e-mail masterpiece. I decided to go on a similar journey to set things straight with this client. I had to protect my team.

I poured through all my old e-mails, notes, and meetings. I made a record of our rigor in reviewing the deliverables with the client. I also pointed out where the client missed several reviews. We had to reschedule several times due to these missed reviews. And I pointed this out.

I gave dates we met and missed. I provided names for the innocent and the guilty. It was a perfect record of what had transpired. I triple checked the e-mail for accuracy. I made sure I copied every client on the distribution. I hit, “Send.”

Upon waking the next morning, I checked my e-mail. There were no responses from the client. But there was an e-mail from my account lead. It read, “call me.”

I called her. She was not her normal, cheerful self. She said the client has requested to remove me from the account. They never wanted to hear from me again.

My heart sunk. I had poured my heart into this project. I was trying to set the record straight with the facts. But facts did not work this time. And it was all recorded in digital form forever. My reputation went south.

My consulting firm could not afford to remove me from the project as I had been instrumental in its success. So they decided to keep me hidden from the client, working with the delivery team behind the scenes. I had to work with a go-between to handle all client communications. The client never had to see me or hear from me again.

I was embarrassed. I was ashamed of my actions. It was the lowest point of my career.


What do all of these stories have in common?

In each story, e-mail was the centerpiece. Each tale weaves a story on the power of e-mail.

We use e-mail to communicate all the time. It is easy and fast. But the results are unpredictable. An e-mail has the power to exalt you or destroy you. I have learned this lesson the hard way.

E-mail brings a high potential for miscommunication. There is no non-verbal communication in an e-mail. Body language is missing. And there are no verbal cues. You can’t hear the inflection in someone’s voice or the tone they are using. This is a significant part of the communication puzzle. Some studies note most communication is not from the words. Rather, at least 80% is from how people say words and from body language. This is true based on my experience.

On top of the lack of body language and verbal cues, there is no two-way, real-time communication with e-mail. The communication is asynchronous. It could be days before you get a response. The bandwidth of communication is slow, absent of context, and error-prone.

E-mail miscommunication is dangerous. The risk of harming others or yourself is not worth the convenience offered by sending an e-mail.


What I do today instead of e-mail?

Don’t get me wrong, I still use e-mail. But not to collaborate or to converse on a topic. I make every effort to use it only for facts. The content is a record of a decision already made through collaboration in a richer medium. There are no opinions or new arguments made.

It is common someone might send me an e-mail asking me for my opinion. Or I may get copied on an e-mail along with a bunch of other people to weigh-in. I may even need to get the opinion of others on my own topic. It is tempting to craft a powerful e-mail to make a point or start a debate. But I now avoid e-mail in these situations if at all possible.

Instead, I get up, walk to the person, and have a face-to-face conversation. Or I pick up the phone and call, using the benefits of verbal, two-way, real-time communication. Sometimes I use face-to-face video calls to get some body language benefits.

When I need a group of people to collaborate, I organize a quick working session. We do this face-to-face if possible. Or if in person is not possible, I get everyone to meet in a virtual meeting. We use a rich virtual collaboration tool. These tools allow screen sharing, face-to-face video, conference calling, and a virtual whiteboard.

Only after rich conversation or collaboration will I send an e-mail. The e-mail documents the decisions already made. It may be as simple as a picture of our whiteboard sketches or a short, bulleted list. But it is the facts and only the facts. And it is only what we decided together.

This is many times easier than e-mail. There is no fallout. Hurt feelings are absent. And there are no misunderstandings. Most of the simplification results from avoiding the e-mail fallout from miscommunication.


Sometimes I will catch myself writing a long e-mail, proof-reading it, and making it perfect. I intend to state my point of view in grand form. Right before I hit send, I remember its unpredictable nature. I remember the “goodbye” e-mail. I remember when I believed e-mail saved my team and could do no harm. I remember when it alienated me and shamed me. I remember e-mail is a poor path to shared understanding.

When I catch my self writing a long e-mail dissertation, I can’t believe it. How foolish can I be? Then, I move fast to delete the e-mail and send an invitation to meet, pick up the phone to talk or walk over to have a chat.

Try ditching e-mail like me when you need conversation and collaboration. Your journey will be easier. You will avoid misunderstandings. The richer collaboration will build stronger relationships and enable rapid, shared understanding.


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