My Short Career in Social Media
October 26, 2019
I might as well face it. When it comes to social media, I am pretty much a failure. Oh, I’ve tried out various platforms over the years, but none have worked out. I guess that all of this madness about hashtags, memes and mobs is just too much for my introverted nature.
Facebook, of course is all about “friends” and “likes”. Maybe it reminded me too much of junior high, but I was never able to feel like I was not a bit of an imposter, presenting a somewhat curated image of myself to the world. And Twitter… it is simply too intense. The sheer volume of information spewed forth by this digital oracle is overwhelming. To me it is not unlike attempting to get a sip of water from a fire hose. And the nature of the platform just seems to bring forth the worst in our tribal instincts. Definitely not for me.
Recently, I signed up for an Instagram account. The only thing “insta” about it for me was instant regret. No sooner than I had completed the sign up process, I was requested to share my contacts list with the service. It was suggesting people to follow and inviting me to make my first post! Whoa, this was far too social for me. All I wanted was to be able to look at some nice artistic photos. I should have known better.
It calls to mind a story told by Stephen Leacock. Leacock, the early twentieth century Canadian writer and humorist knew nothing of the likes of Snapchat or Pinterest. His affliction was the banking industry. In an amusing story*, he relates how, even though he was “rattled” by banks, one day he finally screws up his courage enough to go in and open an account at the local bank. And then, through a series of misunderstandings and missteps, withdrew his balance and closed the account on the very same visit! I guess you might say that, like Leacock, Instagram “rattles” me!
On thinking back to my younger days, I am reminded of one form of social media that I (and most others) accepted without question. I speak of course of that rural innovation known as the party line. Not long after the early days of settlement, prairie farmers formed mutual telephone companies, stringing wires throughout the districts. Through hard work and ingenuity, these untrained technicians maintained this important means of communication. It was fairly common that, after a storm or blizzard, the phones would be out as poles were downed or wires were crossed. I can remember my father, joining the neighbors to restore this essential service.
Of course, no one called it social media back then but it had all the attributes: friends, followers, and likes! Essentially the neighborhood would share one line. Each home would have its own distinctive ring (a forerunner of the ring tone!) Ours was a long, a short and a long and a short. Everyone knew everyone else’s ring so, without any inquiry, you knew when your neighbors were receiving a call (for those so inclined, this is now referred to as meta-data). And for those of a curious bent, it was simply a matter of cautiously picking up the receiver to eavesdrop on the communications of the neighbors. Done discreetly, with a minimum of clicks and by covering the mouthpiece to minimize telltale noises, a wealth of intelligence could be acquired, ready to be passed on at the next community function. This, of course, was the origin of the concept that Twitter would later purloin and brand as the retweet!
A few days ago I cancelled my Instagram account. I never really got the hang of it and those nagging notifications of who to follow were getting to be a little too much. In as much as the final click in setting up the account caused me stress, there was a sense of profound Zen as I clicked that “Delete My Account” button. I doubt that I will ever try social media again, but you never know. In the meantime, my wife keeps me apprised of anything newsworthy. And I am reminded of the old aphorism: The three best ways to circulate news are: telegraph, telephone and tell a woman!
*click to watch Stephen Leacock's "My Financial Career" by the National Film Board of Canada