Hello. That headline above is today’s Weekend Gene Pool question, the one you are invited to answer and I am permitted to use, and respond to, in next week’s Q’s and A’s.
Having read Mark’s story, I stick to my original choice (tell the wife only). Whenever I’ve received an errant email, I always ask the sender (and only the sender) “did you mean to send this to me?” And then I never mention it again. Clearly, I’d never succeed as a reporter of Fisher’s stature
Same here. I wish everyone would do the same. I file my Sent Items every Saturday night, and at least once a month it is only then that I realize that I've sent some message to the wrong person (Outlook AutoComplete). I then have to (belatedly) forward it to the right person with an apology.
Marc Fisher, such a great writer, and clearly anything odd that occurred was grist for his mill. I most enjoyed the social observation here:
"I asked wise friends for help: Most women said I should discreetly go about my business and leave the woman to her dalliance. Most men thought I should go about my business and ask lots of probing questions to figure out exactly what was going on between husband and wife and report back to them with all the details."
I had a personal rule to not tell on teens if I knew they were doing things their parents would not approve of. Just a remnant from my youth in a small town with over-solicitous parents.
So, one year I went to a conference in a city where a friend lived and stayed at her house although she was away at a different conference. I understood that her teens would be at her ex-husband's for the weekend. When I got back to her house the second night I found a major party going on, which cooled off sharply when I walked in. Embarrassed teens, embarrassed me, nothing said.
Almost twenty years later she phoned me, fortunately laughing, to say that her oldest son had just happened to compliment her for never punishing them for throwing a major party that time when she was away and I was at her house. Moral: truth will out.
“Other” was very close to “disclose it to the wife only” because there was enough context for her to know it was her message. This assumes she read the paper which, in 1999, people still did.
I was a bit confused about the note cards and envelopes Marc and his daughter bought. I guess they were for them to use if they were sending someone similarly private and intimate messages. Maybe not. I think such notes could be as much of, if not a greater, problem as emails.
I am, too; but after reading it several times, my conclusion is that he planned on mailing the missives to the wife anonymously. Or maybe he was going to write his wife love notes and mail them to her as a surprise. I dunno.
The only thing I can remember like this is when I was around eight years old and found where my parents had hidden my Xmas gift, and I peeked. OK, so I’m an innocent. (It was a really nice Gilbert Erector Set, if you care.)
This was almost exactly what I was going to post. I saw "Santa" late at night putting presents under the tree. A few years later "Santa" woke me up to help him assemble a bicycle for one of my brothers. My Dad always made sure to leave a little scotch for Santa in case he was thirsty (amazingly the glass was always empty the next morning).
The Fisher piece was a "tell" of sorts to my way of thinking, if for no other reason than the language. Both spouses knew Fisher and could presumably have read the piece. Whether or not the husband actually suspected his wife of an affair before, it may very well have raised a question. The wife would know her message went awry if she did read it and/or hadn't received a confirmation from her lover that he received her email(s). Then there was the inamorato himself who could have read the piece and would almost certainly have recognized the language. I may have sadly shaken my head but then let them live their lives, such as they were, without any involvement whatsoever from me. The public has no right to know everything at all times --- and especially where even a good human interest story on its face could possibly cause real damage to a relationship that is not assumed to be in the public interest. I certainly wouldn't have used verbatim quotes from the messages, however colorful. IMO Fisher was playing with fire.
Not quite the same, but I was at work once when I got a flirty phone call from a woman asking me what I was making her for dinner. It took a beat or two before I realized she wasn’t my wife and she realized I wasn’t her husband. We ended the call promptly but courteously and - to the best of my knowledge - have not conversed since.
I would be surprised if the husband didn't recognize his wife's flowery prose, more suited to Jane Austen than the close of the 20th Century, in Marc's column.
The email actually reminded me of those psych class experiments where students were instructed to post something that ALMOST sounded real on Facebook, to see how many likes it got, and how far it went. Many of those are still circulating today. Of course, you don't see new ones, because realistically, anything is believable in today's USA.
Having read Mark’s story, I stick to my original choice (tell the wife only). Whenever I’ve received an errant email, I always ask the sender (and only the sender) “did you mean to send this to me?” And then I never mention it again. Clearly, I’d never succeed as a reporter of Fisher’s stature
Same here. I wish everyone would do the same. I file my Sent Items every Saturday night, and at least once a month it is only then that I realize that I've sent some message to the wrong person (Outlook AutoComplete). I then have to (belatedly) forward it to the right person with an apology.
We’ve all done it. Depending on the circumstance, I just don’t think every exchange has to end in a “gotcha.”
Marc Fisher, such a great writer, and clearly anything odd that occurred was grist for his mill. I most enjoyed the social observation here:
"I asked wise friends for help: Most women said I should discreetly go about my business and leave the woman to her dalliance. Most men thought I should go about my business and ask lots of probing questions to figure out exactly what was going on between husband and wife and report back to them with all the details."
This almost made me laugh out loud!
I dispute the claim that "her only crime was love", though. It was dishonesty and betrayal.
Poor husband.
I had a personal rule to not tell on teens if I knew they were doing things their parents would not approve of. Just a remnant from my youth in a small town with over-solicitous parents.
So, one year I went to a conference in a city where a friend lived and stayed at her house although she was away at a different conference. I understood that her teens would be at her ex-husband's for the weekend. When I got back to her house the second night I found a major party going on, which cooled off sharply when I walked in. Embarrassed teens, embarrassed me, nothing said.
Almost twenty years later she phoned me, fortunately laughing, to say that her oldest son had just happened to compliment her for never punishing them for throwing a major party that time when she was away and I was at her house. Moral: truth will out.
“Other” was very close to “disclose it to the wife only” because there was enough context for her to know it was her message. This assumes she read the paper which, in 1999, people still did.
Channeling my inner Caroly Hax, I would MMOB.
Now that I no longer read the Post, I miss certain columnists--Hax among them.
Improbable plot twist: the letter was a fake, and the couple sent it to Marc deliberately as a test. The followup was to make sure.
(Yeah, I know this wasn’t what happened.)
I was a bit confused about the note cards and envelopes Marc and his daughter bought. I guess they were for them to use if they were sending someone similarly private and intimate messages. Maybe not. I think such notes could be as much of, if not a greater, problem as emails.
I am, too; but after reading it several times, my conclusion is that he planned on mailing the missives to the wife anonymously. Or maybe he was going to write his wife love notes and mail them to her as a surprise. I dunno.
Jack M.
The only thing I can remember like this is when I was around eight years old and found where my parents had hidden my Xmas gift, and I peeked. OK, so I’m an innocent. (It was a really nice Gilbert Erector Set, if you care.)
This was almost exactly what I was going to post. I saw "Santa" late at night putting presents under the tree. A few years later "Santa" woke me up to help him assemble a bicycle for one of my brothers. My Dad always made sure to leave a little scotch for Santa in case he was thirsty (amazingly the glass was always empty the next morning).
The Fisher piece was a "tell" of sorts to my way of thinking, if for no other reason than the language. Both spouses knew Fisher and could presumably have read the piece. Whether or not the husband actually suspected his wife of an affair before, it may very well have raised a question. The wife would know her message went awry if she did read it and/or hadn't received a confirmation from her lover that he received her email(s). Then there was the inamorato himself who could have read the piece and would almost certainly have recognized the language. I may have sadly shaken my head but then let them live their lives, such as they were, without any involvement whatsoever from me. The public has no right to know everything at all times --- and especially where even a good human interest story on its face could possibly cause real damage to a relationship that is not assumed to be in the public interest. I certainly wouldn't have used verbatim quotes from the messages, however colorful. IMO Fisher was playing with fire.
I miss the Post. Yes, I’m still a (digital) subscriber.
Not quite the same, but I was at work once when I got a flirty phone call from a woman asking me what I was making her for dinner. It took a beat or two before I realized she wasn’t my wife and she realized I wasn’t her husband. We ended the call promptly but courteously and - to the best of my knowledge - have not conversed since.
I would be surprised if the husband didn't recognize his wife's flowery prose, more suited to Jane Austen than the close of the 20th Century, in Marc's column.
The email actually reminded me of those psych class experiments where students were instructed to post something that ALMOST sounded real on Facebook, to see how many likes it got, and how far it went. Many of those are still circulating today. Of course, you don't see new ones, because realistically, anything is believable in today's USA.
Elements of this remind me of elements of Sam Harris’s essay, “Lying.” Highly recommended.
The sender was the wife.
Got it.