I receive a fair number of reader comments about my columns, mostly appreciative, and occasionally not. While notes of appreciation are a pleasure to receive and easy to respond to, nasty notes are a challenge.
During my twelve years in public office, I learned to roll with the punches. After a few unsettled years of pride, jousting and defensiveness, I finally came to realize that people need a safety valve for their intense feelings, and that local politicians fill that slot perfectly. Over time, whether comments were complimentary or derogative, I understood that simply sitting down to hear them was part of the job, and my agitation settled down.
The sorts of comments people make in public are different from those sent by email. Public comments are usually tempered by the setting, and over the years, very few people said anything overtly insulting or downright mean. This is not the case with e-mail. Lacking the constraint of public exposure, some people send angry e-mails filled with insults, invective and, dare I say, hate. Despite my past years of public service, I’m still subject to shock.
I received one such e-mail from a fellow the other day. Derision followed insult, accusation was piled on complaint. His tone was angry, dismissive and self-righteous, and I honestly could not decide how to respond. It’s not that I couldn’t think of an answer – I just didn’t feel good about any of them.
The easy answer, of course, was to shoot back in kind. The e-mail was full of spelling and grammatical errors, an easy opening for comments about low intelligence and lack of education, but that seemed mean-spirited to me, a cheap shot, and guaranteed to fan the flames of anger.
Another was to be ironic – inquire whether the e-mail was a disguised attempt to open dialogue, and why the writer thought insult was an effective way to establish communication. That option felt patronizing, and snide.
I considered sending what sounded like a form letter response, something like, “Thank you for your note about my recent column. It’s readers like you who make it all worthwhile.” But that was too cute and dishonest, too.
I thought about suggesting lunch or coffee. Since the writer’s never met me perhaps he might discover I’m not such a bad sort, after all. On the other hand, did I really want to risk sharing steaming hot coffee with someone so angry at strangers?
After contemplating the situation for days, I realized that it was difficult for me to make a decision because I was uncertain of my motivation. I rejected revenge and all that flows from it. I tried desperately to summon compassion for someone so filled with anger, imagining his daily torment, but it felt intellectual, and not genuine. Did I really want to understand why someone would belittle me, or was I just hoping to feel better?
I concluded that all I could rely on were my feelings; my rational self was altogether unqualified to craft an answer. Too often I shy away from difficult emotions, and instead resort to dry intellect. So finally I just replied with the simple honest truth:
“Dear Reader:
Your angry and insulting note was quite upsetting and left me feeling lousy for a few days. Sincerely, L. Barnett.”
