The Social Media Expert in Its Natural Habitat
There are words and phrases that produce a specific physical reaction in me. "Homework" did it for years. "Season finale" still does. And lately, sitting comfortably at the top of that list: "social media." Not the platforms themselves—the people who announce, whenever there is a gap in conversation, that they are experts in it.
You know the type. The kid who used to score points reciting math theorems and counting his acne is now a self-appointed social media strategist, and he has a lot of thoughts. He goes to roundtable evenings with other strategists. He can talk about Twitter versus Facebook for two hours without noticing anyone has left the room. He works either at a trendy agency or from a home office furnished entirely with things that look like they were designed in Stockholm. Individually, I find this almost charming. A person has found a tribe. Fine.
What I can’t stand is the destination this leads to: someone in a meeting room convincing a brand that any product—no matter how useless, no matter how nakedly pointless—can be made to trend if you just shove it through enough social channels. Get people to become fans of it on Facebook. Get bloggers to post about it. "But what does it actually do?" "Doesn’t matter—reach, baby, reach!" Advertising 3.0. Viral marketing 2.0. The same old contempt for the audience in a newer, shinier costume.
Here is a thought, offered in complete sincerity: before you declare that something deserves a social media campaign, sit with it for a moment. Ask yourself whether this thing would genuinely matter to anyone, whether anyone would miss it if it disappeared, whether there is a real human reason to care. If the answer is no—and often it is—then no amount of Twitter strategy is going to save it. You’re not amplifying something real. You’re making noise, and noise dies, and the campaign will have cost someone a lot of money for nothing.
Either that, or find a different job. One you could explain at a dinner party without watching people’s eyes glaze over. And if you choose to ignore this advice, may the combined curses of Darth Vader, Sauron, and General Chang find you wherever you’re sitting with your laptop at this very moment. Amen.