The most entertaining email disaster I’ve ever read about

By Sarah

A few weeks ago, I read a book with a premise so intoxicating I finished it in 24 hours.

A woman works in a big corporate office.
She and her co-workers do not get on.

As a little treat to herself, to get through the mind-numbing days, she ends every professional email to her colleagues with a brutally honest P.S., saying everything she wishes she could say to their faces… and then making the font white, rendering it invisible – except she knows it’s there. A thrillingly vicious little afterthought.

Until one day she forgets to change the colour of her P.S.

I know!

(If I’ve already sold you on this book, what follows is not a spoiler, more part of the plot setup.)

A meeting with management and HR ensues. She’s put on probation. Among other things, she has restrictions placed on her computer – except, through some error, instead of curbing her permissions, she suddenly has access to all company-wide email and instant messages.

And the tantalising question is… with her job on the line (and a minor interest in revenge against people who she now knows are gossiping about her), how could she use this twist of fate to her advantage?

I think what I found so compelling about this plot is the way it kept asking the question: what would you do?

Which is funny because my work messages look like this:

How lucky not to have to plot revenge – who has the time? Not when you’re reading a book while you make your morning smoothie one-handed because you’d rather not put it down.

The (perfect) title, you ask? I Hope This Finds You Well. By Natalie Sue (a Canadian-Iranian gem of a debut novelist).

Anyway…

Thank you for all the lovely emails you’ve sent us this year.
Thank you for all the interesting, meaningful work that’s been the impetus for (highly enjoyable) team meetings.
Thank you for continuing to be part of our journey, more than 12 years since Liz and I first created those @pomegranite.co.za accounts.

Have a wonderful festive season, a luxurious rest, and, hopefully, a holiday completely devoid of the lyrical line: I hope this finds you well.