The Reply-All Enthusiast with novel length emails.

Dear Wacktastic,

My boss is a "reply-all" enthusiast who writes emails that are longer than a Russian novel. How do I deal with this without losing my sanity?
— Drowning in Emails

Dear Drowning in Emails,
Ah, the "Reply-All Ruler"—the noble knight of the keyboard, valiantly CC'ing the world, including your ex-coworker who now raises alpacas in the mountains. Clearly, we’re dealing with someone who thinks the more eyes on their emails, the better. It’s time to fight fire with… dramatic flair.

First, match their email verbosity with responses so exaggerated they could win a literary award. Start with, "Dear Esteemed Leader, I want to express my deepest gratitude for your comprehensive analysis of the company's paperclip inventory. Your description of the metallic curves and the strategic vision for Q4 supply management was nothing short of poetry. Truly, you’ve redefined the art of correspondence." Bonus points if you reference irrelevant but obscure historical events to really lean into the absurdity: "Your insights remind me of Napoleon's strategy during the Siege of Toulon. Bravo!"

If they don’t catch on, escalate to crafting your own “reply-all” epics. Perhaps, a serialized email novella, "The Adventures of Office Supplies,” detailing the saga of a brave stapler on a quest to find the mythical land of Printer Ink, with cliffhangers in every reply. Or simply turn all your responses into haikus:
"Boss writes emails long,
Words flow like endless rivers,
Silence, our savior."

Still no luck? Then go guerrilla with it. Print out their longest email, frame it in gold, and hang it in the break room with a plaque that reads: "Longest Email Ever Sent – A Masterpiece of Corporate Literature." Let your boss see their emails treated like museum art and watch as they begin to reconsider their life choices.

Or, for a more direct approach, attach a Kindle to your next reply-all, so everyone has something to read while waiting for the next email novel to arrive. You could also start including snack breaks and bathroom intermissions in your own emails, like, “Please take 5 minutes to stretch your legs before continuing to page 32 of this email chain.”

And if none of that works, try this final move: write a “Reply-All Anthem” and propose to perform it at the next team meeting. With interpretive dance. If they don’t get the hint after that, I’d say you’ve done your part to bring joy to the world—and maybe it’s time to start your own literary podcast.

May your inbox be ever lighter,
Wacktastic.