No Straw MenEnlightened discourse proscribes arguments that are weak or imaginary, like straw, set up only to be confuted summarily.

Saying “No” Is Better Than Saying Nothing

A version of this blog post appeared on the Bad Pitch Blog on October 5, 2011.

Practice deftness, not deafness

In a recent blog post, Chris Brogan describes a scenario familiar to anyone not living under a rock: “Today, I sheepishly deleted several e-mails … that were waiting for a quick response … Dozens. Maybe 100 overall. So that means almost 100 people got my attention, got me to read something, got me to think that maybe I should do something,” and then never heard back.

Why does this happen so often to so many? Brogan’s diagnosis is convincing: Because “we don’t fully understand the syntax of saying ‘no.’”

He offers a graceful example of how to construct this elusive sentence: “What you’re doing is important, and I’m very supportive of you, but I’m not able to take on what you’d like me to do because of my own full plate of commitments.”

In other words: Thanks, but no thanks.

Amen.

Whether in business or romance or friendship, surely most of us would prefer the certainty of being rejected to the uncertainty—and looming false hope—of being ignored. To be sure, no reply typically is a reply, just as postponing a decision is a decision. But there’s no getting around the fact that silence stings.

Sadly, this sting is all-too-common among those you’d think would know e-etiquette by heart: PR pros. As workday spinners, we’re paid to frame the conversation, to help a particular perspective prevail. So it’s bemusing that when we confront this challenge in our own lives, we shrink from it instead of enlisting the opportunity. After all, what better way to demonstrate our savvy, our tact, our profession?

No likes to deliver bad news. It’s unpleasant and messy. Yet it’s also the hallmark of a professional. And as Brogan demonstrates, you can apologize, explain, and decline all in just 32 words.

That shows the opposite of rudeness. That shows character.

E-mail Agonistes

A version of this blog post appeared on LindsayOlson.com on November 23, 2010.

In the current edition of her e-newsletter, Claire Kittle, who runs the Talent Marketstaffing agency, recounts an anecdote that immediately rang true for me. With Claire’s permission, I’m reprinting the story, which I’ve edited slightly.

I get dozens of applications every day, and you would be amazed to see how many seemingly intelligent candidates do not follow instructions. If I had to put a number on it, I’d estimate that 50% of applicants fail to send me what my clients request.

I used to give all candidates the benefit of the doubt. I would follow-up with them and ask for the information they neglected to send the first time. But I learned that those same candidates often still fail to follow instructions on the second (and third!) attempts, and worse—they frequently get belligerent about being asked for more information!

Here’s a sample scenario:

Me: “Are you free for a phone interview Friday at noon? If so, what’s the best number where I can call you?”

Candidate: “Yes, that will work!”

Sigh. Now I’ll only throw the life preserver to candidates with very strong resumes, but I still file away the fact they didn’t send the right information off the bat.

All this prompts the question: If a candidate can’t follow instructions for a job application, how will that person perform on the job? Will he take direction? Will his work be sloppy? How will he treat your customers? It’s hard to say for sure, but the initial data points don’t bode well for his future as an employee.

Indeed, although I don’t work in HR, I encounter this bugbear routinely. A recent example:

Vendor: “Please provide profile details.”

Me: “Can you let me know if you can’t get this info from the document I sent this morning?”

The vendor’s response? Silence. Apparently, she could; it was just easier to ask someone than to find a previous e-mail herself.

I learned this passive-aggressive technique from an old boss. Rather than explicitly point out a mistake I had made, he would take the mistake to its logical conclusion. For example, if I wrote that a campaign would run from April-March (rather than March-April), he might reply, “When did our month-long budget get extended to a year?” While my first reaction was, Huh?, upon reflection I appreciated the humor—and gentle guidance.

So, what can we do to minimize these miscommunications? While people will always and forever be lazy, the principles of Web writing suggest separating out anything crucial from the body text. To wit: Any questions or requests should be put in (1) list (2) format, or  at least be bolded or highlighted. The extra time this takes upfront will save you from wasting time down the road.