Only 1,514 people were lost on the Titanic.
I (initially) lost many more than that today with my largest mass-email because of Constant Contact’s Spam Rules.
Less than 0.7% of my list complained of Spam (yes — less than 1%) but that was enough to get the account frozen. [Their standard is 1 complaint per thousand people, which strikes me as insanely rigorous given that I somehow get a zillion SPAM emails a day.]
Even so, here’s the tragedy: the largest portions of that 0.7% came from two sub-lists, one of which was my import of Facebook contacts.
Basically, to re-instate my account they took my facebook contacts sub-list out of my mailing list entirely.
Which means that even if you were in another list, but were also in my facebook universe, you were … lost at sea.
Meaning, my mother, my entire family, all my best friends, and all my investors and clients and students, in short all my most loyal supporters –– all of whom I am linked to on facebook –– were wiped out of my email universe for mass-mailings. [Including about thirty people who wrote to me about the call over the weekend … all vanquished.]
After 3 employees, I spoke to a wonderful supervisor who “got it” –– I kept talking about my mother being excluded and being a single dad (to Belle) –- and we restored all the facebook people who actually opened the email over the weekend.
So ultimately, I ended up saving more people than survived the Titanic.
[But if you are somehow in that weird sub-category of reading this blog and being a facebook friend, but not opening up the tele-call email … all you need to do is click on any of the links on the right and add yourself back to my mailing list and all will be well.]
I knew that we would solve this problem one way or another, even if it meant migrating to a new mailing service, but there was something truly apocalyptic in thinking that I couldn’t directly reach out en-masse to all the people nearest and dearest simply because they were also part of my facebook universe.
And then I also felt resurfacing rage against those people who dropped off the list willfully yet mysteriously. [One of my faves Randy Rainbow had a great line about this: “Hmm. Looks like I lost two twitter followers overnight. Whoever they were, I hope they died peacefully in their sleep.”]
I’m less kind.
I honestly would rather someone steal from me than drop off my mailing list. Seriously.
If I left money out on the counter and someone visiting my home took it, I wouldn’t be thrilled, but I would understand. I’d like to think a wave of compassion would come over me. “They must be desperate,” I’d sigh, and in this fantasy I’d wish them better times ahead.
Dropping off my mailing list is so much worse than that.
It’s saying “I not only have no desire for contact with you, I also don’t even want the most casual updates about your life.”
In a way, it’s much worse than murder.
(At least it is in the Information Age.)
It’s like that old saying about Indifference, not Hate not being the opposite of Love. [Or in this case, UNSUBSCRIBE.]
[And it goes without saying but obviously, if you’re reading this, please know that I totally and eternally love you….and if you really needed that $20 I left for the dog-walker, I understand and all is forgiven. But please — let’s just keep in touch.]
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