Talking to Your Spouse in Tweets

As a career services higher education professional, I provide advice to job seekers on how to positively position themselves to be considered for employment. When I meet with students to discuss their application materials, I suggest they remember a mantra I learned from one of my early career mentors; keep it clear, concise and consistent. I remind the student that the hiring manager often reviews hundreds of applications, and search committee members add the responsibility of candidate selections to their already very full and overscheduled plates. I also remind my advisees that our current rapid-fire, information overload culture has taken a toll on our capacity to concentrate and leads us to feel overwhelmed. I tell them my reason for a one-page resume for emerging professionals by asking them if they ever turn to "page B1" for the newspaper story above the fold. Most students admit they've never read a physical newspaper and they don't know what I mean by "above the fold". I ask them how often they scroll down on a webpage if the content doesn't fit entirely on the screen. Like a newspaper, most admit they rarely do.

We now digest a lot of information in little bits at a time. In the career world, we refer to this as brain-based career development theory, a phrase coined by the Ohio University Career and Leadership Development Center. I use the concepts and techniques in my advising sessions and also in the way in which I orient myself to my work.

If I must relay information, I try to keep my emails to a paragraph. I use bullet points; no more than three being the ideal number. If I am leading a meeting, I provide an agenda, with recommended times per topic. I write meeting synopsis notes and send to students immediately after we've met, with a brief recap of the chat and the expected steps for the next session. When marketing programs and services to students, I opt for visuals to complement any written information. Infographics are my jam. Editing for brevity is my friend.

I lament our struggles with feeling overwhelmed with information, our inability to concentrate on one thing at a time, our challenges in sitting down and reading a book for more than 10 minutes without wandering to our phones for an serotonin/anxiety burst glance at social media. I miss long phone conversations in lieu of a text message and dinners without phones on the table.

I recently read a meme that said, "Why can't I watch a 2 hour movie but I can watch Tik Toks for two hours straight?" I wonder the same thing not just about myself, but my entire family.

My husband, Andy, was an early adopter of the smart phone. He was the only person I knew in the early 00's with a Blackberry. He was as cool as Zack Morris at the Max, who charmed and impressed with his mobile device. Andy's early adaptation to communication technologies meant that he also started to speed-absorb large amount of information before the rest of us. Additionally, I noticed, as the person trying to communicate with him the most, who also was deeply invested in his ability to process what I was saying, that his cognition slowed before mine.

Maybe it is his age, our continued over-use of social media, or the fact that he is sick of hearing me talk, but Andy is unable to listen to me for more than a few minutes before he visually loses interest and attention in what I am saying. I can't even call it a conversation because he is normally engaging with me while looking at his phone, he repeats something I told him as though it is something I've never heard, or he interrupts me while I am in the middle of a sentence.

"Andy, did I tell you about the crazy thing Jennifer told me about her uncle in yesterday's staff meeting? She told me that he never..."

"Did you open this jar of raspberry jam and not close the lid all of the way? KIDS! Get in the kitchen right now and look at this jar!"

"Melissa, did you read that article about the new ski resort they may build in the Adirondacks?"

"Yeah! I did! Did you read the comments? Can you believe that one guy..."

"Oh! Darn it! Huh! Crap!"

"What's wrong, Andy?"

"Oh nothing. I just remembered I left my clothes in the dryer last night. I better go get them out."

8 am: "Andy, did you see the COVID numbers for today have jumped up a ton?"

"Yeah."

11 am: "Melissa, somebody told me, but I can't remember who, that the COVID numbers for today have jumped up a ton."

It's frustrating, exasperating, and downright infuriating to have a conversation with my spouse. I am wasting my breath and time trying to talk to him. In response and in retaliation, I often retreat to the bedroom to read (for 10 minutes before checking social media, of course) and to watch Hallmark. However, we live together, manage a household, and raise children, making it hard not to communicate. Plus, I love to chit chat, gossip and process, and I may blow up if I don't talk to another adult in person, which is very hard during a pandemic.

Therefore, I have decided to modify my communications with Andy to align with social media guidelines and standards. If he watch 3 SNL skits in 10 minutes while on the toilet, then he can listen to me tell him about the kids' school plans for the week while we unpack groceries. If he can watch a 3-minute video of people biking down a ski slope, posted on Facebook by someone from his high school that he hasn't talked to in 25 years, he can listen to me telling him where to find the Tupperware for the leftover turkey.

According to the Sprout Social article "Know Your Limit: The Ideal Length of Every Social Media Post", the ideal length of a Facebook update is 40-80 characters and the ideal length of a Tweet is 71-100 characters. Yes, that's characters, not words. Like my own advice to job seekers, Sprout Social recommends the social poster strive for concise and succinct as you only have seconds to capture the reader's attention.

In hopes to capture Andy's attention, I am keeping our conversations under 100 characters.

I start by asking him if it is a good time to chat and request that he make contact, which is an aspirational request. Then I begin my voice post, speaking clearly, concisely and somewhat quickly.

"Andy, I'm thinking Chinese for dinner tonight. Will you call in the order at 7?" (65 without spaces)

"Hey, the kid needs to go to the dentist. Maybe braces. Do we have money?" (55 without spaces)

"Andy. Happy Anniversary. You're the best. Love you forever. Hugs." (55 without spaces)

"Remember Jennifer at work? Her uncle never wears a mask. Got COVID! Unbelievable!" (69 without spaces)

"Let's talk finances. Stop spending so much fucking money." (49 without spaces and I try my best to cut words in exchange for profanity.)

I have yet to gather any statistical data on my new strategy but I feel in time I will produce positive data and write my own white paper on brain-based spousal conversation theory. Let me know if you would like to be on the email list to get the PDF.

I like to warn Andy before I share anything I've written about him, and even suggest I read it to him in advance, despite knowing he will decline the offer. I am going to tell him this before I hit the publish button.

"Wrote about you. You'll look like an idiot. Ha ha. Sorry. Not sorry."