Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Misconstrued and Misunderstood


I sent an email once and it simply said Hi. Are the two of you planning on playing with me and my partner for the upcoming tournament? If not, let me know ASAP so I can find two others for my foursome.

I hit “send” and I thought nothing more about it. Which is why I was so puzzled when I received a phone call from my friend a short while later and she said Are you mad at me? And I said no—why would I be? And she said well my partner got your email and she said that it had an angry tone to it. And I thought hmm really? And so I pulled it up on the computer and read it to my friend in an even tone. My friend said Oh—okay—that doesn’t sound angry to me at all---and by the way “yes”—we would love to play with you. And it was over.

One night around 11:00 pm I texted one of my daughters and wrote What time do you want me to pick you up? I clicked the green button on my cell phone and thought nothing more about it. But minutes later my daughter called and without even stopping for a breath said What do you mean what time should you pick me up? Don’t you know it is still so early? I am just hanging out with my friends. You always think I am doing something bad. I am not bad. You should know what bad kids do. I am not doing anything. And I am not coming home yet—it’s only 11:00. I will text you later and tell you what time you should come and get me.

And once the air was expelled from her lungs I calmly responded with All I wanted to know was what time I should pick you up--you are the one reading something more into my text and taking it to an unintended level.

I wrote a blog post last week about bringing some housewarming gifts to a friend and how the gifts I brought were designed to ward off envious thoughts of others. And I heard back from several people who enjoyed my references to Italian culture and found the post to be warm and lighthearted. But one person had a totally different spin on my writing—she emailed me a double-barreled question: Did anyone tell you your writing seems to have an undertone that suggests a strong dislike for Garden City?

And so I stopped and thought--I love Garden City—it’s why I have remained here for 26 years. I love Garden City even with its warts. It’s why I am so comfortable exploiting its flavor. And secondly, if anything, I think my writing has an overtone—not an undertone. I think when I get into trouble with my blog writing it is because I make my point crystal clear to the point of abject nakedness. My tone resonates like a bullhorn---there is nothing surreptitious about it.

But for the entire rest of day, that email bothered me. I reread that email 30 times making sure I did not read something into it that wasn’t there. And I could not figure out whether my writing itself was murky thus rendering an unintended connotation or whether the person reading it was simply projecting---maybe she herself had a negative view of Garden City and thrust it on me to avoid her own feelings of disdain.

It still remains a mystery to me.

But I can tell you what I didn’t do. I did not reply to the email. I was too afraid. I feared that no matter what I wrote it would be misconstrued. If I laughingly said No ha ha!! she might think I was snickering. If I just said Nope. she might think I was being haughty. And if I apologized for being seemingly negative it would validate her belief that being negative was my intention in the first place. No matter what response I came up with it was sure to be read with a self-generated deleterious undertone. And so ultimately I said nothing.

Sometimes saying nothing speaks volumes.

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