The Latte Manifesto

Several years ago I met and became friends with a nice young lady. Let’s call her Carrie. The friendship ran an average course; we had a few dinners, yakked on the phone, stripped down to panties and had tickle fights (that last one only in my then-boyfriend’s imagination). We didn’t have quite enough of a bond to sustain a longer-term friendship, and eventually we lost touch. But, even after our friendship had long faded, every few months I’d get a little “Carrie update”, via an e-mail sent to a large group. This didn’t bother me at all — seems reasonable to alert friends and family to certain interesting personal accomplishments, and I assumed my inclusion on Carrie’s mailing list was a harmless oversight. A few months ago, this infrequent and innocuous correspondence took what I considered to be a rather unpleasant turn. Carrie began sending mass e-mails on more frequent basis, regarding her status as a published author. The publication which had deemed her writing so worthy was in fact a website. Let’s call the site “Misty Christy”. Misty Christy was not a site I’d heard of, and further investigation led me to discover that anyone can join their “vibrant community of genuine, interesting women” with “reasons to connect.” They invite contributions that are “inspiring or silly. Around here, anything goes.” (Oh, Web 2.0 exuberance, is there any business model you can’t rationalize?) Carrie was soon bestowing upon her entire address book a stream of breathlessly excited e-mail communiqués about her Misty Christy articles, how to find them, corrections to previous instructions about how to find the articles, apologies for all the e-mails, and oh my god are you fucking kidding me with all these e-mails? WE HAVEN’T SPOKEN IN YEARS, LADY. Around the same time, my friend Mark was published in the UK edition of Conde Nast Traveler. He announced it in the following manner:

From: Mark Subject: My article about SF in UK Conde Nast Traveler April 2007 UK edition is out here, so keep an eye on your local international newsstand! xo Mark

Shortly after receiving Mark’s e-mail, I dashed off a mental note to Carrie:

Dear Carrie, My friend Mark has written an article that will be published in the April 2007 UK edition of Conde Nast. He announced this via a single, one-sentence e-mail to friends and family. It was simple and humble. Why can’t you be like that? Hugs, L.

Whatever relief I gave myself via this self-contained chuckle was short-lived. A few days later, the e-mails from Carrie turned into e-mails from lettersatmistychristy.com, big ol’ HTML e-mails with lots of images and lots of links to all sorts of Misty Christy things, each one beginning with the warm salutation: “Hi, youremailaddress, Carrie has written something for Misty Christy and wants you to know about it.” I wasn’t sure just what Carrie had signed me up for — was I now on some Misty Christy marketing mailing list? Were they going to hound me for my “inspiring or silly” stories? I imagined a stream of notices … Hi, youremailaddress, Carrie has changed the category tags on an article for Misty Christy and wants you to know about it … Carrie has done her laundry and wants you to know about it … Carrie has suppressed a fart and wants you to know about it … I went to the Misty Christy site and searched in vain for some mechanism that would allow me to unsubscribe. Being under the impression that if a website gives its members the ability to subscribe others to unsolicited marketing e-mails, they are obligated to give those others the ability to unsubscribe themselves from the unsolicited marketing e-mails. I was honestly surprised to discover Misty Christy has no opt-out. And then, I was honestly royally pissed off. Of course, I got right on the highest horse I could find and wrote a couple of extremely uppity, hotheaded e-mails to Misty Christy. Now, I should have seen this next bit coming … Misty Christy not only denied all responsibility for giving Carrie the ability to spam me, they also TOLD CARRIE THAT I WAS MAD ABOUT GETTING HER ALERTS. Well played, Misty Christy. I was properly humbled. It’s not often that an entire “community of genuine, interesting women” calls me on my misplaced anger. The next day I got a personal e-mail from Carrie (note the sig file):

From: Carrie Subject: sorry Hi L., I got the message from my editor that you wanted to be taken off my email list for Misty Christy. No problem. I thought this might be a fun way to reconnect – sorry. Hope you’re well! Carrie Carrie BoBarrie Freelance Writer for www.MistyChristy.com – “search” my name

Did she really say “fun way to reconnect”?!??! Newly inspired, I fantasized about sending the following reply:

Dear Carrie, How thickheaded of me to not realize that a series of promotional e-mails sent to dozens of people was actually a fun way for you and I, specifically, to reconnect. It’s probably an age thing — I’m still stuck on that old-fashioned custom of sending a personal message, with an inquiry as to the recipient’s well being, and inviting a response in kind. Maybe if I spend more time on the Internets, surfing the various tubes and what-not, I will better understand that “shamelessly spamming everyone I’ve ever met” is the new, fun way to reconnect. So, when you start getting daily e-mails promoting the sites on which MY musings will be published (of course, only if I can pass the stringent, almost impossibly high editorial standards set by most online publications) … well, please just know that’s my way of saying “Hey, long time no see! I hope you’re well. Let’s get some coffee and catch up!” Fondly, L. L. Arbiter Freelance Writer for lattemanifesto.casablog.com – “kiss” my ass