Dear Inbox…

It’s over.

This has been coming for years.

I knew it, you knew it. We’ve both been in denial about this. But I think it’s finally over. It’s just not working for me any more.

I know… I know, you’ve served me well. All those “special offers”, those long lost “friends”, those “once in a lifetime opportunities” and let’s not forget the spam (and more recently, the bacn). If I’d had any latent insecurities about my malehood or feeling incomplete without that fake gold Rolex, I probably would have buckled by now.

The thing is, an email inbox is like having an unlocked and open front door, 24/7. It’s just not such a smart idea in this day and age. Night or day anyone can just barge in and start waving their goods (and services) around. Without permission. Heck, without even ringing the darn bell.

Yes I know, there’s those special people who need VIP treatment. Friends, clients and of course those illusive potential clients. But do they need a master key to your front door? Your family - sure - but seriously, which of your friends even have a key to your home? Somehow we treat our digital front doors like public ammenities - “Open 24/7" (except of course on public holidays, but that’s another story).

I think it’s time we re-invented email. We’ve been ping-ponging email for 40 years now using the same weird skeuomorphic metaphors as letters once did (little parcles of words bundled up into envelopes and flung over to a mailbox somewhere). It’s just like children playing hide ‘n seek… “coming, ready or not…”. Sadly, mostly it’s “not”!

Also, each little payload is like a potential contract - “Oh, I emailed you about it a yesterday… didn’t you read it yet?” Really? I didn’t realise we had an email Service Level Agreement in place!

40 years ago we put a man on the moon. I was reading comic books back then, dreaming of hovercrafts and human teleportation. I loved those ads at the back page of the comics. Dang, they were promising us flying cars by now! But no, it’s 2013 and we still have email. TO:, CC:, BCC: Subject… blah blah. I feel cheated.

Sorry inbox, it’s not me, it’s you.