The Unintended Recipient

A Story Celebrating the Comedic Aspects of Modern-Day Communication Tools

Cold, sterile, and dangerous, are all words that you would use to describe your enemies but are also how today’s most commonly used communication methods, like text messages and email, are often characterized. Given this unflattering description, it isn’t surprising to hear people say “what a treat it is to receive a letter these days, a handwritten one at that”, and “how nice it would be to go back to the old days when you knew if you received a letter, someone, at least cared enough to find a pen or sacrifice some of their favorite lipstick…or blood, to get a message to you”.  Another important characteristic of this old-school communication method was that if it ended up in hands that it wasn’t meant to be in, due to an erroneous address on the envelope, or a mail delivery person not wearing their glasses, it was actually illegal for the unintended recipient to open it! Of course, if by some terrible twist of fate a letter was delivered to an incorrect mailbox whose owner had a more wicked spirit, there wasn’t too much that could be done, as he or she would likely take some sick pleasure in ignoring the order-keeper that was the law, but aside from that, generally, a letter was safe from prying eyes.

Unfortunately, when utilizing modern communication tools, mistakenly sending a message (especially one with a message more private in nature) to the wrong recipient, can lead to very unfortunate consequences. Though oftentimes modern communications, like emails, will contain a warning message indicating that it is absolutely sinful for anyone other than the intended recipient to read the message, this cautionary notice is always at the BOTTOM of the body of the email. This usually means that the though the unintended recipient has read the warning, they’ve also read through the actual message too (that was not intended for his or her eyeballs).

The brutal consequences of an error of this nature include permanent humiliation, career derailment, friendships disintegrating, and death. You might say, “The Unintended Recipient” sounds like more of a horror story than a comedy, and to that my friend, I would respond with a solemn head nod, and a quiet, “yes.”

It was an average day… one in which all of my electronic tracker statuses (e.g., activity, health) were reporting exactly the universal mean.  This said, it’s not shocking that I found myself doing a very regular activity, sending an electronic mail message to an individual, whilst doing another very regular activity, eating my lunch. I typed up what I believe any objective onlooker would think to be a very informative message, spliced with relevant and creative pieces of humour, and pressed send. I then got up from my seated position, with the intention of taking a bathroom break. On my way to the human waste drop-off point, my thought train about the size requirement for something to be classified as “miniature” instead of just “small”, was tragically destroyed by a tiny, nagging thought, “did I send that email to the right Martha?!”

I had a sudden flashback to sending an email to another Martha earlier in the day and realized THAT Martha’s name would have likely been the first one to auto-fill in the “to” field.

“There is no way I wouldn’t have noticed that….they have VERY different last names…I did NOT send it to the wrong Martha…there is just no way in heck…”

My eyesight started to blur as I held the wall for support. The thoughts of denial occurring in my brain obviously weren’t convincing my body, as it had started to turn on itself, and, in addition to the onset of blindness, I was hit with a sudden wave of nausea.

I decided that finding out whether I had sent the equivalent of the CIA’s current projects listing to Martha P., instead of Martha M. was more important than relieving my bladder, so I bolted back to my computer. I shook my mouse a smidge more aggressively than normal to bring it back to life (note: no mice with heartbeats were actually injured in this story), and as I waited for it to regain consciousness, the fear of my possibly grave error took over my body in the form of red splotches.

“Good thing leopard spots are in this season…no need to spend absurd amounts of money trying to keep up with the latest in the couture world when you can just use stress to send your body’s biological systems into a state of anarchy!”

After a cruelly long period of time had passed (long enough such that humans had started to build colonies on Mars), a message appeared on the screen reading “updates are installed. Restarting now.”

“Noooooooooo!!” I wailed as I slid off my chair onto my knees on the ground. “This is ridiculous. Aren’t we in an advanced enough age that we shouldn’t have to restart computers to finish bettering them?!”

As I heroically forced myself out of my anguished position back onto my chair, I discovered that the login screen had finally appeared on my computer. My fingers were slimy with sweat and thus their accuracy had decreased monumentally. After three failed attempts to enter my password correctly, I angrily grabbed a pen from a stylish wooden holder resembling a tiny stump (gazing upon this object earlier had been what prompted my thoughts regarding the semantics of “miniature” versus “small”) and stabbed the keys with deliberate motions.

Finally, I gained access, and as I opened my email sent folder, it was mercilessly obvious that I had sent the email to Martha P., instead of Martha M. I swear I heard laughter erupt; laughter that sounded suspiciously like a wicked witch’s. Hopelessness and despair started to seize my trachea, and I found myself gasping for air.

“Deep breaths… this will be okay…what’s the date?! Is there any way I can play this off as a more edgy April Fool’s Day joke?”

But as I looked at the calendar on the wall and was abruptly reminded by the paper time-teller that it was December…I realized that wasn’t an option. I then decided to go the “phone a friend” route and called the Martha M. (the RIGHT Martha…).

“Martha – you aren’t going to believe this. You know that thing we were talking about last night at dinner?”

“Yes…” she replied.

“I just attempted to send you an email about it…but I accidentally sent it to Martha P…”

There was dead silence for about a full 10 seconds, which prompted me to finally say, “Martha…are you there?”

“Oh, yes I am…I think I just blacked out for a few seconds…I’m here…oh my gosh what are you going to do? Did you try to recall the message?”

I immediately felt a rush of shame for forgetting to execute the most obvious solution first. I made a hasty attempt at recalling the message and was immediately greeted by the “failure to recall message” notification.

“That didn’t work…” I tried to keep my voice stable, but I’m sure it came out as more of a distressed pigeon’s call.

“Hmmm…didn’t you say you always wanted to move to Bermuda? Maybe this is the Universe’s subtle nudge that you should try that out! Or maybe…we can put in a call to all the spiritual leaders we have ever heard of, in the hopes that somehow Martha P. hasn’t read it yet?”

“There is no way. If the message recall failed, that has to mean she read it …maybe I can pay to get my identity changed?”

“I think that’s probably really expensive…but I mean maybe if you never want to retire?” Martha replied matter-of-factly.

I sighed in distress. “Well, I think I’m going to have to bite the bullet and just call the other Martha…”

“Oh boy…I think you’re right…I wish you all the best. Also – no matter what happens, I will still let you buy me dinner.”

My heart felt like a cheetah was using it as a treadmill as I hung up the phone, and dialed Martha P.’s number.

“Hello?!” Martha P. did not sound like she was in a good mood.

“Oh hey, Martha…” I started to say, trying to sound casual and prevent my palpable fear from being too evident.

“I’m just reading that email you sent me.”

“Right…about that. Martha, I’m truly sorry – you were not the intended recipient of that message. You may have already realized that…”

“Yes, I had a feeling, as the first sentence read, ‘I had so much fun last night; hope you did too!’. I knew you were strange, but I didn’t think you were strange enough to randomly tell me about your prior evening’s fun and then assume I had had the same.”

“Ah yes…of course that would have given it away…”

“After that, I didn’t bother continue reading, as I am a very busy person with a very complex schedule. Your email has since had a meeting with my trash folder.”

I knew that it was imperative I continue with my serious tone (and stifle the immense joy I was feeling) so that Martha P. wouldn’t realize the significance of the message she had erroneously received, and remove it from the resting place for unwanted communications.

I measuredly replied with, “I am so sorry to have disrupted your day, Martha. I certainly appreciate how busy you are. I’ll let you go now.”

A wide smile spread across my face as I hung up the phone. Though the error I had made could have led to grave consequences, I had somehow escaped relatively unscathed (apart from an annoyed Martha P., but I could handle that!). That said, I certainly did not take the experience for granted. I had learned that though modern-day technology had gifted humankind with angelic-like efficiencies and capabilities, it had also bestowed some devilish like happenings on us, and we seriously needed to watch our backs.

As I shut off my computer for the day, I took the opportunity to remind it that I wasn’t going go to be used as a pawn in its attempt at world domination. “You may have got me today…but this happening has made me stronger for tomorrow…”

I also made a mental note to stop in at the library that evening and check out Computing for Dummies.