Updated proposal has been submitted.
And now we wait.
In the last post, we chatted about our common human-ness. Today, I’ve been thinking about how we use that human-ness.
Or don’t … ?
A drop of ink may make a million think.
~ Lord Byron
This quote was published on Instagram a few days ago and I love it.
It shows us the beauty of words.
It shows the power of words.
It doesn’t have to be limited to words—it can be ink in any form.
But, as a writer (who is about to write 30,000 of them), words are on the brain!
I think we’ve all come to know by now that the old saying ‘sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me’ is complete hogwash.
Yes, we can choose how to react to words—choose how much we let them affect us, to a certain degree.
But, we’re all still human and words have the power to be mightily hurtful.
The trouble is that we’re letting efficiency overcome humanity.
We talked a bit about it a few weeks ago in the convenient inconvenience.
Efficiency has reared its ugly head in my life in the past few weeks.
The words haven’t always been hurtful—in fact, most were not.
Mostly, the words were indifferent.
Just as dangerous?
One example was the generic, automated reply I got to a job application.
This is not the first I’ve had and certainly won’t be the last.
And I’m not upset about not getting the job—it’s the manner in which we find out we’ve been unsuccessful.
I had written ‘the manner in which we are told’, but then I changed it. ‘We’re told’ implies some human contact.
A stock standard, machine-generated message that, if you were dead keen on the job, would be absolutely gutting.
In this case, I’d even had a meeting with the manager before I applied—to introduce myself, find out about the role. We’d had a great chat.
And then you get a robot rejection.
I also submitted my education post to an online publication in response to another article they had on schooling—I suggested I could rewrite it to fit the format, if they just take a quick gander at the post and let me know if they’re interested?
You get a reply (a stock standard, machine-generated reply) that says if they’re interested in your story, they’ll reply in a couple of days—if you don’t hear from them, try elsewhere.
Where’s the humanity? The recognition and acknowledgement that they’re affecting someone’s life with their words?
A stock standard, machine-generated reply is all about minimal effort, when it should be the opposite.
More effort should be taken to put a human touch on robotic replies.
To acknowledge and value the person at the receiving end.
Yes, a drop of ink can make a million think—what an exciting prospect!
It can also affect one and that matters, too.