The lost art
Digital everything has taken over our lives. Whether it be social media, emails, texts, BBM, Messenger, Facebook or a handful of other notifications which light up our screens, we are bombarded by bits of data hundreds (if not thousands) of times a day. My colleague recently commented that she picked up a pen to write some research notes and found her own handwriting unrecognizable because it had been so long since she had written anything besides phone numbers and quick scribbles on a Post-it. If we place so much value on the ability to connect in an instant, then why is it that the traditional little notes and hand-written "thank yous" I've sent to clients have made the longest lasting impressions?
When I began my business, I had a few very valuable contacts who would accept my calls-- no matter what the time of day or how frequently they saw my name flash across their call list-- they would spend the time to download their knowledge and share their years of experience. It was clear to me that the half dozen or so mentors that I was lucky enough to meet were not only becoming my troubleshooting team but the source of all my referrals. They began diverting projects to me which they were too busy to accept and soon I was managing jobs of increasing complexity and expanding my network so quickly that I had a few brushes with the now-famous "imposter syndrome" (I'll save that for another day). I was absolutely ecstatic about the growth I was experiencing and the fact that I had become a truly self-employed woman. I knew that I needed to show my appreciation to the people who had helped me execute my vision.
Whether it's because I'm an "old soul" or perhaps it was the influence of British grandparents--who practically forced us (God bless them) to pen "thank you" notes starting at age 5 to each and every person who sent us a gift-- I always set aside time to send Christmas packages to my top mentors or referees from that year. This was no small feat considering we were typically released from projects around December 19th after spending months in the bush. Following a 6+ hour drive home I would head straight to the grocery store, stock up on mason jars and a shopping cart full of supplies before heading home to make about 40 litres of antipasto and orange hot pepper jelly. I remember getting phone calls from the recipients, some of which I hadn't talked to for months due to our busy schedules, and the pleasure in their voice was genuine. They told me anecdotes of how quickly they (and their loved ones) had polished off "the goods" and that it was so nice to hear from me. The time and effort spent was a small price to pay for the patience they had shown towards me and the opportunities they had passed my way.
It is becoming a lost art to communicate on a personal and meaningful level. If you are disagreeing with me as your read this-- thinking that there is equal value in digital communication-- ask yourself: would you be more pleased to find a delivery notice from Purlolator on your door as you arrive home, or see a flashing blue light on your phone indicating a new email with the subject line, "Thank you for the ____"? It is the exchange of effort and time which makes the gratitude meaningful. Start small, and then make it a habit!
