#YoungProfessional: Antisocial Networking
by Brent McDermott
I NEVER KNOW what to post on Facebook. Before I share a photo, life event, opinion or a column I’ve just written, I always hesitate before clicking the “Share” button. I’m always gun-shy because of how judgmental I can be of the newsfeed supplied by my own friends, and don’t want them casting the same judgement upon me.
Eleven years ago I was a fearless poster. Facebook was brand new, I was 19, and had a lot of friends to impress. Far from alone, my entire network of friends was a sea of over-sharers and humble-braggarts. Back then, my friends and I were all competing to amass a portfolio of cliché college experiences. We posted photos and status updates of two story beer bongs, Aderol-induced term papers, wildly inappropriate Halloween costumes and cult movie quotes, all without thinking twice.
These days, I make an imaginary Venn diagram of pros and cons of everything I post. If I’m a little too eager to post something, like a recent marathon PR, the pit in my stomach tells me that I’m trolling for compliments. Sometimes my ego gets the best of me when I crave recognition, but poster remorse kicks in after the third or fourth pity-like. I wonder how many of friends feel this way after the shameless self-promotion I’m bombarded with on the daily.
College debauchery photos and Big Lebowski quotes have been replaced by alibis of adulthood. Writing this at midnight on a Saturday, my newsfeed is flooded with work accomplishments / rants, endless collages of travel photos, but most of all, a running diary of life as a parent in 2015. Thanks to Facebook, I’m acutely aware of when most of my friends’ kids achieve their first solo bowel movement, act of saintliness, and when they learn how to use their words to manipulate Mom & Dad, as evidenced by some of the posts I read. Sometimes when I read the quotes posted by parents, I want to ask, “What were they angling for that you said ‘no’ to?” but refrain, more out of cowardice than good taste.
I always thought that special moments with your kids and significant other were particularly special because they were shared uniquely between the people involved in them. Evidently, I’m in the minority. On particularly sappy days, my newsfeed is a cross between a Nicholas Sparks novel and an episode of Father Knows Best. Do people really need others to tell them how great they are at parenting or how cute their kid is in order to believe it? God, I hope not.
And then there are the hashtags. What gives with all the gratuitous #’s? At first, I thought it was meant to be ironic, like when people say “hashtag ____” aloud after doing something particularly stereotypical. But now I’m pretty sure that people’s tongues are no longer in their cheeks when they employ seven hashtags with their weekly pregnancy update photo or daily photo essay walk with their yellow lab. Instead, their tongues are wagging with every “Like” and flattering comment underneath the photo. Am I really going after pregnant women and puppies in this column? #nofilter, as many of my friends annoyingly attach to their social media posts.
A few months ago I ran out of gas. I was driving home from a tiring night at work in subzero temps, had left my coat at work, and decided to throw caution to the Polar Vortex wind. Naturally, Murphy’s Law prevailed, and I was stuck hoofing it to the nearest gas station, teeth chattering and pride evaporating with every step. As you might expect, that life event did not make it’s way to Facebook. Nor did the time my credit card was declined at Trader Joe’s a week out from payday, or the time I ran out of dog food and fed my golden retriever flour tortillas for two days. However, if one of my friends posted a photo of a negative checking account balance or gas can, I would find their candor infinitely more refreshing than the boilerplate humblebrag that is always on tap.
We have become so conditioned to cast ourselves in the most flattering light that our ability to achieve and emote vulnerability is going the way of the Dodo bird. Constant reaffirmation of our own “awesomeness” on social media leaves little room for proper introspection or self-awareness, two essentials that my generation so desperately lacks.