Happy Gilmore presses the button on the speaker and yells out, "You're a lousy kindergarten teacher. I saw those finger paintings you brought home, and they suck." It's a metaphor. Happy Gilmore presses the button on the speaker and yells out, "You're a lousy kindergarten teacher. I saw those finger paintings you brought home, and they suck." It's a metaphor that perfectly defines how I feel about social media marketing right now...it sucks.
I'm a sucker for a great pair of jeans. It's a mission to buy the perfect pair that I can never seem to accomplish, but I'm always looking for them. Unfortunately for me, Fort Wayne doesn't exactly have access to a lot of options when it comes to finding jeans that don't start and end with the letter "L" or the letter "I," outside of Von Maur, so I tend to stop in there on occasion to see what's new. Well, every time I go in there, even with my headphones on, the store employee (who has seen me a thousand times) still asks me the same question over and over and over again, knowing my answer is always no, asking me in a whisper because my AirPods are in, "Can I help you with something?
"No, I'm good." That perfectly defines how I feel about social media marketing right now...it sucks.
I'm a sucker for a great pair of jeans. It's a mission I can never accomplish, so I'm also looking for them. Unfortunately for me, Fort Wayne doesn't exactly have access to a lot of options when it comes to finding jeans that don't start and end with the letter "L" or the letter "I," outside of Von Maur, so I tend to stop in there on occasion to see what's new. Well, every time I go in there, even with my headphones on, the store employee (who has seen me a thousand times) still asks me the same question over and over and over again, knowing my answer is always no, asking me in a whisper because my AirPods are in, "Can I help you with something?
"No, I'm good."
During the height of the Pandemic, I found myself working from typically 6 AM to 8 PM on average, and most Saturdays, and after nearly a year, I cracked. I went from showing up to calls online looking presentable to showing up in gym shorts without showering or brushing my teeth yet. I was disheveled, and I didn't care.
Not sure if you remember Jimmy Fallon back then, but I do. I remember him performing in an empty studio, sitting on his stool, kicking his feet up, and laughing at what appeared to be himself and thinking, I'm not sure he's ever been better. Maybe it was because I was laughing with him, knowing how relatable his scenario was. Truthfully, I'm not even a big Jimmy Fallon guy; I don't particularly like late-night, let alone finding myself up at those hours to watch anyway. I just remember it vividly because I, too, felt disheveled.
I used to care, and then I found myself caring less and less. Not so much about the way I looked or presented myself, but about what people thought.
I'm sure I just told a version of your experience during that time as well. A season of burnout, a season of perspective, and maybe a season that's left some lingering impact on your psyche today?
Only, this season is different. It's not burnout necessarily from a Pandemic, but fatigue brought on by the consumption of social media in our lives. Back in 2020, it was conspiracy theories, vaccines, and division; now my experience is centered around the target we've all got on our backs by every product or service imaginable online. It's as if somewhere between the Pandemic and now (and I'm not making a point that the two are related, although that's a strong argument to be made another time), we went from worshipping God, having a social life, to only having a social media life.
Everyone appears only to want one thing...our Money, and in order to get our Money, they need our constant attention. I saw a shirt once that I thought was funny, not so much anymore, but it was of a beard that read, "excuse me, miss, my eyes are up here" as it pointed up. We live in a world now where every single marketer, every single company is the guy wearing that T-shirt, vying for our unwavering attention.
Love to cook? "Hey, here's a new set of knives that will never go dull that you can order. Not ready yet? No problem, here's free shipping. Still not ready? Here's an offer: buy four, get one free."
Want to earn extra Money? "Awesome, learn to trade, here's a platform that will show you how, it's only $39.99 a month with no clear path to cancel. Are you ready to sign up? If not, no big deal, we will send you emails every day for eternity. Care to sign up for sms alerts for an additional 15% off?"
Then we've got the marketing content, and it's the most predictable thing you might ever see in your life. It's got a clever "hook" designed to pull you in or to get you to "read more." It's also perfectly formatted and aligned, littered with hidden links, a very compelling offer, and a call to action at the end that reads, "learn more," or something to the effect of "get started now."
We live in a world that is consumed by the marketing machine. And I'm not even talking about artificial intelligence and that noise. Still, if I mention AI, it would be the Artificial Influencer selling us on the idea of mastering social media. At the same time, they fraudulently inflate their engagement numbers, tricking us into believing them the same way the "knife" company is trying to get me to buy four of their Japanese Carving Knives. For as much as we're all exhausted from the marketing workout we're getting, we're all equally exhausted from the rhetoric spat out by these fake influencers.
It's not a pandemic by any stretch, but it's a serious problem. Or maybe I'm on an island by myself, either way, thanks to the Pandemic, I don't care anymore (It's also noon on a Monday, and I'm writing this in my gym shorts). Social media has slowly become a desolate place, like the exhibit hall at the convention that everyone paid for space at, yet no one came to see.
We don't need someone to introduce us to something we never thought we needed, the same way we don't need the store employee to follow us around asking if we need a different size to try on over and over and over again, when "we're just browsing, thanks."
I mean, could you imagine, walking into the Buckle, which is already annoying (no, I don't shop at the Buckle), and instead of them asking, "what brought you in today?" they just stood by your side the entire time and repeatedly asked you, "do you want this, have you seen this, these are so popular, how about this? It's 15% off, it's buy one get one free, it's on sale today and today only, don't forget about our sale. Sign up for our newsletter, become a member, earn rewards, do you want to sign up for our credit card and save 20% today?"
Because that's what social media has become, and it's all driven by your marketing guru, who is hailed by someone for being "great," when all they are becoming is the Buckle employee (again, sorry to the Buckle) who won't stop asking you questions.
Social media is getting old, and it's getting old fast, and the bright spot is that young people are buying into the idea of dropping these platforms. Although I don't have statistics to take from, nor am I going to look one up to say I did, I do know that several of my daughter's friends in high school are detoxing social media platforms on a regular basis.
For guys like me, the consultants whose livelihood revolves (at the moment) around social media, I'm not mad, or as I mentioned above, desheveled by the possibility that this mentality puts me out of a job, because let's also be honest, Sam Altman and his team are already set out to do that anyway.
I'm of the camp that if what I'm reading, watching, or engaging with seems to be asking me for something, has a clever way to get my attention, and has some kind of question near the bottom with a link, that marketing has its hand in it, and in that case, call it conditioning. Still, it exhausts me, and I want nothing to do with it anymore.
All I want is a good story and the opportunity to think for myself. If I want something from you, I'll be sure to ask.
Sorry, not sorry.
Sincerely, Happy Gilmore
