I had to send an e-mail to a co-worker the other day. I needed to include a funny comment, but worried that she might not get the joke. I started at my computer screen for a few seconds. She has a great sense of humor, so she would have to get the gag, but she’s also higher on the food chain than I am. I didn’t want to rock the boat.
So I did something I don’t like to do in everyday communication. I used an emoticon in a work-related e-mail.
Actually, I don’t like to use emoticons in any e-mail. If you have been under a rock the past decade and don’t know what an emoticon is, count your blessings.
Emoticons are the juvenile symbols that people use in online communication to try and give some context to their words.
I shouldn’t make fun of emoticons because I know that using them can mean the difference between a laugh and an angry response. But I loathe using them at work where I have to pretend to be grown up.
I use smilies and all other sorts of emoticons in other online communication. I frequent several message boards and liberally use the graphic emoticons that those online communities use.
But a smilie in an e-mail to a vice president at work?
I went for it and got a reply with an emoticon from her. So I guess I passed the test. Still, I wonder if what we did was right.
Should two adults with families – she has a grown child for God’s sake – stoop to combining a parenthesis and a colon instead of using words to indicate that the previous statement was a joke?
I really don’t know where I stand on this. I guess if we stick to the occasional emoticon in work-related communication, I can keep my dignity. But I draw the line at the use of LOL and ROTFL. That’s just wrong.
More and more, I find myself facing these kinds of situations. I’m midway between 35 and 40 so I honestly don’t know what I can pull off anymore.
Fifteen or 20 years ago, I used to sprinkle “dude” into my conversation with reckless abandon. I would call anyone “dude,” regardless of gender.
When I say “dude” now, my 5-year-old goes into a laughing fit. She thinks it’s the funniest thing in the world.
What is the world coming too when a kindergartener laughs at me for something that used to come so naturally?
I can accept some things about getting old. I can handle people calling me Mr. Shea. I can take the occasional ache and pain. I can deal with going to bed early.
But I don’t know if I can drop “dude” from my lexicon. I don’t use it very often, but I need to have it in the holster for when I get together with certain friends. I can’t sever that tie to my college years.
I’d even promise not to use any more smilies if I can pull off “dude” for another 10 years or so.