At the risk of this blog self-destructing – I imagine the farmer at the server farm throwing up his hands in disgust and saying “this guy’s nuts” – and perhaps I’m tossing sand in the gears of brown ink’s ever-growing momentum, but I am here to suggest there are certain times and events in life when a letter, the almighty written word, just won’t cut it. Times when nothing will suffice but for a good ‘old-fashioned live, in-person, face to face meeting.
For instance, would Dennis Rodman be able to broker detente between the United States and North Korea via twitter? Unlikely. So instead he somehow got himself into casa de Kim Jong-un, they watched some hoops together, and we may next see the greatest 6th man in history in Oslo later this year. The power of presence.
So it was, two weeks ago, that when I made the decision to leave my job, the best way – for me at least – to deliver the message was in person. Side note: This means I will have more time on my hands and plan on posting more frequently which will hopefully ameliorate a source of discord between Wendy and me. On the day of message delivery, I was up at 4:30am, spent six-and-a-half hours on a plane (round-trip), and an hour-and-a-half (again round-trip) in a car with Captain Al, a wily and wise septuagenerian entrepreneur from the Bronx, all for a brief in-person meeting with my boss.
Whether my decision to leave was a good one will become clearer after a little patina sets in, (taking my boys to school is great, doing laundry after lunch less so), but I don’t think I’ll ever second guess the medium of delivery.
For the life of me I’m not trying to discourage writing letters, quelle horreur!, rather, I’m suggesting there are discrete events in one’s life where a meeting in irreplaceable and you’ll know it when you see it.