The Secret Life of Pronouns_ What Our Words Say About Us - James W. Pennebaker [81]
Dear (Famous Professor):
The reason I’m writing is that I’m helping to put together a conference on [a particular topic] … I have been contacting a large group of people and many have specifically asked if you were attending. I would absolutely love it if you could come … The only downside is that we can’t pay for any expenses … I think the better way to think about this gathering is as a reunion rather than a conference … I really hope you can make it.
Jamie Pennebaker
Dear Jamie—
Good to hear from you. Congratulations on the [conference]. The idea of a reunion is a nice one … and the conference idea will provide us with a semi-formal way of catching up with one another’s current research … Isn’t there any way to get the university to dig up a few thousand dollars to defray travel expenses for the conference?
With all best regards,
Famous Professor
All of a sudden, the formerly distant, high-status Pennebaker is writing like the lower-status, slightly groveling student. If you look a little more closely at the e-mails you will also see that all the e-mails are friendly and enthusiastic. Not using I-words does not make the writer appear cold or arrogant, just slightly less accessible and more distant.
Many people ponder these findings and think the differences in I-word usage simply go along with making a request of some kind. If you want something, maybe you use I. When you are in the position to grant the request, perhaps you don’t. Some other studies indicate this isn’t the case. A good example are some e-mails I sent a few years ago in my capacity as an administrator in my department. We were running low on office space and I had to ask a few people to move to different offices. Here are some edited versions of an e-mail I sent to a Very Important Professor and another one to a Humble Graduate Student. The results were painfully predictable:
Dear (Very Important Professor):
I’ve been trying to avoid this but I think I may need to ask you if you would be willing to give up your office … I can find you something significantly less grand should worse come to worse.
Dear (Humble Graduate Student):
As you probably know, office space in the department is at a premium. We are doing our best to accommodate all the students. However, would you be willing to move your office …? Thanks so much for your help with this.
As with the earlier examples, the tones of the e-mails are honest, warm, and constructive. Even though the content is essentially the same, they convey slightly different messages. The request to the Very Important Professor is written as though I have my hat in my hand. You can see me stooping over a little and speaking in a quiet voice. In the second e-mail, I’m not speaking at all. I’m merely conveying information from “us”—the department. “We really don’t want to bother you but we want you to move. Nothing personal, mind you.”
Did I consciously adjust the language of these e-mails? No. I have no memory of specifically writing them. My brain must have kicked in on its own and adjusted the writing style knowing who would read the e-mail later. Don’t blame me. It was my brain that was so sensitive to status differences.
I love the e-mail study because it demonstrated an important effect that held up across several people and, more important, revealed my own hypocrisy. Status hierarchies are everywhere yet they go on right below our noses. We are generally oblivious to them, especially when corresponding with friends whom we may have known for years.
THE SPEEDY UNFOLDING OF SOCIAL HIERARCHY IN CONVERSATIONS WITH STRANGERS
Think back to the scene from The Godfather