Oh, the irony of someone turning to me for social media guidance. I’m the ugliest girl in school, and she wants my makeup tips and fashion advice.
Wow? You really think I’m pretty?
This better not be a joke, because I know where there’s pig blood, and I know how to use it.
But no, it was genuine. There really is one other person on earth less skillful than me with social media. And, she’s not alone — she came representing an entire ring of people who’ve never even tweeted, and she was chosen to come to me for help.
Excuse the self-indulgence, but I like the sound of that so much, I need to type it again: Someone asked me for help using social media! Me, the one with the world’s last functioning dumphone, with its cute little miniature QWERTY keyboard, who finally, begrudgingly got an iPhone 4 last summer when it died. And, all the Appleheads are snickering, because a “4” is what grandma uses.
Those of you wondering how the editor missed that typo with the pound sign, meet me after class. The rest of us need to move on.
So. This intrepid gal steps into my office last week, and explains that no one else in her Winters Friends of the Library group was willing to take on the task of sitting down with me to learn how to use social media to promote their “Day of Giving” fundraiser. She drew the short straw. I busted out laughing — so, what was the unpleasant part: learning to use social media or having to spend time with me!
Hahaha … she chuckled politely and smiled sweetly, and didn’t really answer that question.
Yes. Ahem. So. Tell me about your social media experience. Are you on Facebook? Yes, she said, but she hardly ever uses it.
Twitter? She shakes her head, “no.”
And, just like that, it happened: I was a social media expert.
Right about now, my kids and a few others who’ve hounded me about my clumsy social media skills are howling with laughter, and may even have wet themselves. Temper your amusement, kids, with the knowledge that legions of 13-year-olds are staring at you and rolling their eyes, because everybody’s using Snapchat now.
Meanwhile, 12-year-olds snickers. Snapchat…so five minutes ago.
As the preschoolers snort, “Wow… five minutes ago is so five seconds ago.”
Shup up, toddlers. You’re already obsolete. Fetuses are already texting, “lol u r (poop emoji).”
Yes, fetuses are texting. I saw it on Facebook, so it must be true. And, right about now, someone’s already googling “Intrauterine smartphones,” and found it, right there on www.iUterus.com.
Yes, social media evolves that quickly, and yes, I’m having a little too much fun with this column, because the concept of my social media expertise is hysterical. Case in point: I have 184 Twitter followers. Sockington the cat has 1,482,735. This morning, I tweeted about a march on Monsanto. Sockington tweeted that he’s staring, staring, staring at his twitchy, twitchy tail. When I tweeted about the dangers of formaldehyde in clothing fabric, Sockington tweeted, “CHUF CHUF CHUF CHUF CHUF litterbox time is my time.”
Sockington: 1.36 million followers. Me: less than 200.
Whenever I’m feeling a little too pleased with myself, I can tamp that self-esteem right down with the knowledge that cat turds are more popular than me. Except with this gal here, right next to me. She thinks I’m a social-media rock star, and that’s one more person than thought that yesterday.
I’ll take it.
So, Grasshopper, let’s begin with Facebook. Facebook is good for two things: stalking your children and destroying your relationships. Facebook is where friendships go to die. I can shred relationships faster than Sockington claws the curtains with a single Facebook post. But I don’t do that anymore. I’ve realized that no problem in history of the universe was ever solved on Facebook. So now, I mostly post cat pictures and funny memes.
Oh, sweet innocent … let’s google “library memes.” We do, and lo, the page fills with some gut-busters. My favorite: one of Amy Poehler that says, “The library is the worst group of people ever assembled in history. They’re mean, conniving, rude and extremely well read. Which makes them very dangerous.” Love it. Let me demonstrate how to use this. I drag and drop the meme to my desktop and upload it to my Facebook page in about two seconds, type in “Ha! Word!” tag about 30 of my Facebook friends, who will now have to look at it, just in case I’ve posted a photo of them shooting tequila with a half-naked guy rubbing his own nipples, and boom! Made them look! And now they’ll all share it because it’s hysterical.
My apprentice is all wide-eyed wonder.
Oh, that’s nothing. I will now reveal the ninja secrets to the Lazy Girl’s Guide to Social Media: That Facebook post I just made? It’s linked to my Twitter account.
We open my Twitter feed. Holy moly, I’ve been tweeting like a mockingbird in birdbath full of RedBull. I peer at her intently to make sure she grasps the key point: I haven’t been on Twitter in weeks.
“But, but, but,” she sputters, pointing to the date of the post: that morning.
“No,” I whisper. “It all comes from Facebook. Or my blog.” If someone tweets to me, I get an email and reply instantly. But I’m a Twitter apparition. They think I’m tweeting … but I’m not really there.
She looks at me in awe, as if I’d just revealed the Five Point Palm Exploding Heart Technique.
But the real thrill came when I logged onto Facebook later that day. My apprentice had made her first meme post, with a link and a photo and everything! I replied with a super smiley face and “liked” it.
I am a Social Media Sensei.
P.S. Follow me on Twitter.
— Email Debra DeAngelo at [email protected]; read more of her work at www.wintersexpress.com and www.ipinionsyndicate.com