Friday, February 26, 2010

Worst. Email Exchange. Ever.


(C-Day minus committee revisions, defence) So I finally received word from Supervisor regarding my thesis draft. It took him about a week/forever (when it is your wordy child being graded). So did he lavish me with praise? Hammer me with criticism? Give any indication as to his thoughts? You tell me, here is the email:

"Hi Matt
I have read it and made marginal comments. We should meet and discuss. Cheers. Supervisor"

Are you kidding me? That was my life's work...in fact my Greatest Writing Work (GWW)! Marginal comments - good! Should meet - bad. What does this mean? So I retort:

"Dear Supervisor,
Thanks again for going through the draft so quickly [....] Can we set up a chat on the phone sometime before the weekend? Just let me know when I can call, and I will do so. Cheers. Matt"

Saying thanks for the speed is me sounding calmer than I feel. I ask for a phone call because clearly I am *dying* for feedback, having received none so far. I am trying to politely ask for feedback without sounding desperate (am I trying to date him?). He responded quickly:

"Face to face would be better, Matt. I want to go over some of the written comments I have placed in the margins [....]. Supervisor."

Cue heart sinking. Face to face? You mean you can't just say "awesome" over the phone? Uh-oh. This feels bad. This confirms the bad feelings for not having any feedback previously. My head is spinning, I am writing and rewriting responses to this in my head. I want to plead with him, "Please, I can try harder! I can do more! I'm not like this!" (are we breaking up?). My response:

"Hi Supervisor,
Sure that would be fine. [...] Thanks for being so accommodating. In the meantime, can you give me your general sense of the draft, for example, are there specific sections I should pay close attention to in preparation for our meeting?"

This is me at my best. I am trying my hardest not to grovel for feedback, which I, at this point, need in order to breathe. Also, I am trying not to just yell "GIVE ME AN ADJECTIVE!!!" Anything would have done at that point. Bad. Great! Profound! Pedantic. Long. Written in black ink. I just needed something. His response to my 'took hours to craft' plea:

"There is no particular section to look at"

KABOOM!!! I don't even know *what* to think. My mind explodes with possibilities. When your mind explodes, you can really only revert to your most base instincts. So I did what anyone would do. I called my mom. Cue peace of mind and wise motherly analogies.

I went into the meeting with Supervisor and was pleasantly surprised with mostly editorial revisions (Are you kidding me?! Adjectives go a long way for peace of mind, Supervisor) and Supervisor was super nice. We walked through the entire thing, page by page in his kitchen (how awesome is he?). Afterwards the whole thing felt within reach and I was ready to jump into it (after the Olympics of course). Meeting conclusion = feeling pretty swell. As I was beaming out of Supervisors front door, I paused at the top of his driveway to look to the sky and appreciate a cool evening and pleasant encounter, when my phone rings in my hand. Like only a mother could, it was a perfectly timed call from across the country late at night, away from her home on a cell, in hushed tones to keep from waking the grandmother. "How did it go?" How did she know?

An unforgettable Olympic weekend and a delightful email exchange with a new friend have done much to recover the damage done by my worst enemy (at times): my imagination. GWW is on the up on up.

'Could have been Supervisor's last email' song of the day: Didn't I (Blow Your Mind This Time) - The Delfonics

p.s. Just to be clear: My supervisor is awesome, and gives me far more time than I deserve. Despite my frustration with our email exchange he is quite thoughtful and super nice. I don't want to leave you with the wrong impression, this is just one of those funny exchanges that is only really funny after the fact because my inner monologue was so ridiculous.

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