Day 11: On hustle...

Hustle as a verb is something I'm familiar with. As a noun, it takes you firmly into the realm of my new would-be homeland. "Good hustle" is something I aspire to. My hustle has always been a more difficult beast to define. I am capable of extreme hustle in the service of writing and deadlines as well as motivation to get on a tennis court and over-compete, but the hustle I'm now needing is that of sending and receiving emails.

And I am not a patient person. This is the cycle I go through when sending mails with important subject matter at stake.

Day 1: I'm cool, calm and confident. I don't really expect a response on this so soon but will eye the end of the day and try to work out the timezone so I know the moment when I can legitimately stop expecting a positive surprise.

Day 2: This for me is email day. Correspondence of this nature is a two day matter, especially when in the realm of business or logistics. As day two ends, a subtle but perceptible shift in my disposition towards you starts to occur.

Day 3: And the philosophical debate begins... Do I send a reminder, or perhaps the more socially acceptable "I was having a little trouble with my server and just wanted to check that you had received the mail I sent Monday..." Normally my sense of Britishness and unwillingness to cause a fuss means that day three ends with a climb down as social awkwardness trumps my desire to promote my passive aggression in written form.

Day 4: FFS. This is almost a working week. My questions weren't even that complicated. If it had been me, and let's face it, sometimes it is, I would have sent a holding email, just so the person knows that I haven't been abducted by pirates or hit by a car or it's twins... but to be honest, by this point I'm hoping it's the case as this is the only way I'll retain any sort of respect for you. You had better be in traction...

Day 5: Well, that's it. this person obviously hates me and is doing this to fuck with my head. They know how important this shred of information I'm asking for is and yet they are taking personal delight.... DELIGHT in the gnawing uncertainty that is now consuming my every waking moment. Why have they not replied? Didn't they get the passive aggressive follow up email?

Day 6: By this point, a weekend has hit and the social etiquette dictates that I can't hassle you on a weekend if my mail was business related but EVEN SO! Congratulations, you have basically uninvented the internet. I lIve in the UK and I could legitimately have POSTED this fucking enquiry and you could have POSTED it back in the time it has taken you to answer my mail. And this is the UK POSTAL SYSTEM!!

Day 7: Why was there no out of office on this. Clearly you're out of office. Or you hate me. Or You've died. Or I've died and I'm stuck in some limbo-like state of perpetual waiting for your fucking email to come and grant me the enlightenment that my benighted soul has lacked for the last week due to your INABILITY to answer my mother fucking...

(Mail arrives)

"Hey Nick..." Hey Nick? HEY NICK? No apology for the week long wait I've endured? No reassurance that everything is indeed ok and that your grandmother did not die? Hey Nick??!

It's probably an unhealthy part of my immigration process where all my work and all my future plans are bound up in a bunch of waiting cycles, some of which have hit day 20.

Day 20...



Note. If you're reading this and at any point I have forgotten to answer an email of yours or taken more than a few days, please note. These rules don't apply to me. If I'm busy it's for completely legitimate reasons of course. :-)

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