You’ve got mail. Wait, actually, you don’t.
That’s the situation we’re examining in today’s edition of “The World Without.” No Yahoo, no Gmail, no Outlook, nuthin’. In a world without email…
…We’d Communicate Via Raven
There are more efficient methods of long-distance communication, including but not limited to text message, phone call, or even my nemesis, Snapchat. However, sending ravens would be the coolest. That’s how they do it in Westeros, setting of my all-time favorite fantasy series A Song of Ice and Fire. And if we did it this way, I could have my secret dream job: maester.
Don’t let Grand Maester Pycelle fool you—being a maester is a sweet gig. All you do all day is read books and offer counsel. You also tend to the aforementioned ravens (which is probably an unpleasant task, for all I know). However, assuming it’s not that bad, a world without email would be perfect for maesters and ravens alike.
(P.S. If you’re a lord or lady, I’ll send my resume.)
…We’d Be Spared from Cold Sales Emails
Raise your hand if you’ve ever received a message like this:
Hi Kyle,
Just following up on my previous six unanswered emails! As a reminder, we could boost your Instagram following by 100x using our AI-powered CRM solution for B2B and B2C companies, as well as midsized-hybrid-sole-proprietorships! Here’s a link to our overview video featuring cheery vector graphic cartoon people and a British voiceover!
If you don’t respond to this email, no worries! This is an automated drip campaign with seven more messages incoming!
Cheers,
Nate
They always sign these emails with “cheers,” and their name is always “Nate.” In a world without email, we’d never receive this stuff— and I would be much happier.
…There’d Be An End to Phishing Emails
I find it interesting that we spell this term the same way as the jam band Phish. Does this suggest a connection? Are they themselves behind the phishing scams?
I’m unsure, and I’m also unsure of Phish’s legal prowess, so I’ll stop asking questions before I get sued.
…We’d Be Far More Productive
If you’re a working stiff like me, the first thing you do when you enter the office is answer emails. This is a fate worse than Sisyphus’s. If you somehow reach the bottom of your inbox, it never, ever stays empty. If it does, that means you’ve been fired. I’d speak with HR immediately.
…I Wouldn’t Be a Writer
I mean, I’d still write stuff—you’d just never know about it. That’s because the main way readers keep abreast of my writing is via my email newsletter.
Though it’s the best marketing tool I have, I haven’t always used it optimally. For example, I once sent a newsletter with this subject line: “A quick update on the state of my hair.” I then shared a picture of said hair, which hadn’t been cut in months. It was so puffy I ended up looking like Toad from Mario. And judging by the 26 unsubscribes I got, people were not amused.
Without email, I never would’ve made this mistake. But this all happened about a month into Covid, so can you blame me for being a little kooky?
…I’d Be Living in My Dad’s Basement
I’m a writer, but my day job is marketing. And, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, email is a pillar of the industry. Without it, it’s very possible I wouldn’t have a job, hence why I’d be living in my dad’s basement.
Though this would stink, it wouldn’t be all downside. I mean, free housing is nice. Also, I spent most of high school playing Rock Band 2 in the basement, so I could always run it back. My virtual band was called Northern Red Stallion, and let me tell you, we played one rollicking rendition of Jethro Tull’s “Aqualung.” If I returned to the basement, NRS could embark on a reunion world tour and call it “The Stallion Rides Again.” Tickets on sale soon.
…Passwords Would Be Lost Forever
Because where would the recovery messages go? Perhaps we’d receive them via some exotic method, such as Morse Code. Not a bad skill to learn, in my opinion, especially if you’re, like, locked in a truck and don’t want the kidnapper to notice your calls for help.
Speaking of being locked in a trunk, one time my friends and I thought it would be fun if two of us rode from Albany to Troy in the trunk of a car. I assure you, this was not a kidnapping—Jimmy and Dan volunteered.
For those unfamiliar with upstate New York geography, Albany to Troy is about a 20-minute drive, with plenty of potholes in between. Jim and Dan didn’t use Morse code to communicate from the trunk; they just texted, and occasionally moaned. When we arrived and they emerged, a couple on the back patio of a nearby bar gave them a standing ovation. It was awesome.
How did I get on this tangent? Oh yeah. Passwords. Don’t forget ’em.
…You’ve Got Mail Wouldn’t Exist
To be honest, I’m not sure I’ve actually seen this movie. I think I watched it on network TV once, but it might’ve been Sleepless in Seattle.
Anyhoo, you don’t get the title—let alone the film itself—without email. (Side note: My wife says I overuse the word “anyhoo,” so I’m considering a new entry entitled “The World Without ‘Anyhoo,'” where I try to go an entire post without using the titular word. We’ll see how it goes.) Anyhoo, for the Zoomers out there, You’ve Got Mail was once AOL’s catchphrase for incoming emails. These were the days when any old computerized voice was a novelty (unlike today, when I routinely confuse Siri with Alexa).
In a world without email, perhaps this film would’ve been named You’ve Got Raven. In this alternate version, Meg Ryan would receive a raven from the south notifying her that her betrothed, Tom Hanks, had been beheaded by the Lannisters. RIP.
…The World Would Be Far Less Interesting
We’ve still got email, so please excuse me while I go answer mine. I think a gift card just arrived.
Kyle A. Massa is a comic fantasy author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife, their daughter, and three wild animals. His published works include three books and several short stories. When he’s not writing, he enjoys reading, running, and drinking coffee.
You can read more from the “World Without” blog series here. And if you want to see a specific topic, email kyle@kyleamassa.com.
