January 2009 Posts
Facebook Etiquette: To friend or to ignore? That is the question.
Dear Mr. Loose Gravel,I have a real dilemma so please help: An old childhood neighborhood friend sent me a "friend" request on facebook months ago. Since I've had no contact with her in two decades, I checked her pictures before deciding whether or not to accept the friend request. Turns out she looked really heavy and boring, so I just ignored it. Then her more interesting and attractive little sister facebook-friended me (I accepted) and we exchanged a few messages. Little sister and I had actually been friends in the past, though, and her older sister was more like an acquaintance. Shortly thereafter I received a message from the older sister saying she "heard I was on facebook," and that she, "hopes everything is well."
What do I do about this? Do I pretty much have to accept the friend request now?
Sincerely,
Nowiwannaturnofffacebook
----
Dear Nowiwannaturnofffacebook,
One of the huge advantages of Facebook is that you can gatekeep exactly who has access to your page, so it matters who you accept as friends. The people you select as friends are able to peruse everything you've posted, and everything the rest of your friends post about you (assuming you don't manually modify their access to your page). By accepting friend requests out of guilt, you relinquish the biggest right you have as a facebook patron.
You may be concerned that ignoring a friend request is a mean thing to do. Logically, if one of the parties in a friend request questions whether or not they want to accept or ignore, the correct answer is more than likely "ignore", as you probably aren't good friends on the actual non-cyber terra firma. Still, is it cruel to ignore? I say it's off-putting, if not cruel, to be presumptuous about your friendships! Casting friend requests to folks you barely know or haven't talk with in 20 years can be irresponsible, as really nice people feel forced to accept the request, and the cold-hearted consider whether or not to ignore. So yes, you may feel a little mean when ignoring a friend request, but keep in mind the requestor put you in a tough position.
To be fair, it's prudent to ask yourself what the real harm is when accepting facebook friends. If you don't mind having a mild acquaintance who doesn't embarrass you by association, then really, what is the harm?
For the times you find yourself really wondering if you should 'accept' or 'ignore' a potential facebook friend, I made a short self-test. You're welcome. Just pick the best answer to each question and add up corresponding numbers.
How long ago in months has it been since you last spoke to this person?
- >24
- 2-24
- 0-2
How would you rate the quality of interaction you have/had with this person? If you just met the person, what is your guess about the quality of interaction you will have?
- Nauseating to Just ok
- Pretty good
- Exceptional
If you went the rest of your life never hearing from this person ever again, how noticeable would it be? Again, if you recently met the person, take your best guess.
- Noticeably awesome to Would never notice
- Occasionally noticeable
- Extremely noticeable
If your score is 6-9, friend them. If your score is 3-5, feel free to ignore that request.
So Nowiwannaturnofffacebook, since your old neighborhood buddy would probably score 3-4, here is what I would do: Reply to the note she sent you by acknowledging that you are indeed on facebook and thank her for her well-wishes. Leave it at that. If she then sends another friend request, ignore it if you still want to. She will get the message that you are not facebooking everyone you've ever known. If her more interesting sister ever asks you why you never accepted her older sister's friend request, just tell her that you didn't think that you two were close enough friends for that kind of commitment.
Send your question for Gavin
So Nowiwannaturnofffacebook, since your old neighborhood buddy would probably score 3-4, here is what I would do: Reply to the note she sent you by acknowledging that you are indeed on facebook and thank her for her well-wishes. Leave it at that. If she then sends another friend request, ignore it if you still want to. She will get the message that you are not facebooking everyone you've ever known. If her more interesting sister ever asks you why you never accepted her older sister's friend request, just tell her that you didn't think that you two were close enough friends for that kind of commitment.
Send your question for Gavin
Continue reading Facebook Etiquette: To friend or to ignore? That is the question..
Sully, America's Newest Hero
Dear Loose Gravel,
How do I become a hero apropos of the U.S. Airways crash landing yesterday?
Signed,
Iwannabegijoe
How do I become a hero apropos of the U.S. Airways crash landing yesterday?
Signed,
Iwannabegijoe
(link) to above definition
Dear Iwannabegijoe,
Short answer: Not easily.
Yesterday Captain C.B. "Sully" Sullenberger demonstrated for his co-workers, his company, his flight passengers, and really the rest of the world, what he most likely already knew: Nothing but ice water flows through his veins.
In the ultimate tough-guy maneuver, the intrepid Sully made the decision to land an Airbus A320 with 170 passengers in the Hudson River after geese killed both engines while flying over New York City. Apparently he and his co-pilot made all the right moves, and everyone on the plane not only survived, but escaped major injury.
He not only made a great decision to ditch the jet in the river, he cleared a bridge by 900 feet, avoided all of many obstacles that are present along every big-city river, and glided the jet right between two ferry lines. That's just bad-to-the-bone. Clint Eastwood-esque. It was a shockingly well-executed day for Sully from the time he realized his engines were toast-onward.
Nomatter what I do in my lifetime, I doubt I'm ever going to have decide how best keep 200 people alive in a dire situation. I'm a civil servant by day and I provide advice on a blog at night. Not exactly hero material. Just warm blood in these veins, sir.
And you know the passengers on the plane were glad they got Sully, the flight instructor-air force veteran and not Troy, the just-out-of-flight-school beer hammer. Orbitz hasn't added the "flight crew experience" selector for booking flights yet, because when do, where fall to the mercy of whomever has been deemed adequate to navigate a commercial passenger jet. I'm guessing that more often than not, we're not getting a Sully. From how the story reads, it seems like he was able to guide a very dire situation to a place of highest success and survivability. The passengers were orderly and helpful. Because of where Sully ditched the plane, Ferry boats were able to offer immediate help. If this guy isn't a hero, I just don't know what a hero is.
His legend is already starting to take form. You see, Sully walked the sinking plane twice to make sure there were no passengers still on board the plane. Of course he did. He is, after all, the captain, and he was the last one off the plane.
I'm really not sure what it takes to become a hero. I am certain, however, that unlike Sully, the work-related choices I make between the hours of 8am and 5pm are not ever going to encite hero-worship.
I think we need to know a little more about Sully. What else can he do for America? Or better, what can't he do. Once you crash land a commercial flight in the Hudson river with zero casualties and receive hero status, you have to wonder if the man has any limits.
Short answer: Not easily.
Yesterday Captain C.B. "Sully" Sullenberger demonstrated for his co-workers, his company, his flight passengers, and really the rest of the world, what he most likely already knew: Nothing but ice water flows through his veins.
In the ultimate tough-guy maneuver, the intrepid Sully made the decision to land an Airbus A320 with 170 passengers in the Hudson River after geese killed both engines while flying over New York City. Apparently he and his co-pilot made all the right moves, and everyone on the plane not only survived, but escaped major injury.
He not only made a great decision to ditch the jet in the river, he cleared a bridge by 900 feet, avoided all of many obstacles that are present along every big-city river, and glided the jet right between two ferry lines. That's just bad-to-the-bone. Clint Eastwood-esque. It was a shockingly well-executed day for Sully from the time he realized his engines were toast-onward.
Nomatter what I do in my lifetime, I doubt I'm ever going to have decide how best keep 200 people alive in a dire situation. I'm a civil servant by day and I provide advice on a blog at night. Not exactly hero material. Just warm blood in these veins, sir.
And you know the passengers on the plane were glad they got Sully, the flight instructor-air force veteran and not Troy, the just-out-of-flight-school beer hammer. Orbitz hasn't added the "flight crew experience" selector for booking flights yet, because when do, where fall to the mercy of whomever has been deemed adequate to navigate a commercial passenger jet. I'm guessing that more often than not, we're not getting a Sully. From how the story reads, it seems like he was able to guide a very dire situation to a place of highest success and survivability. The passengers were orderly and helpful. Because of where Sully ditched the plane, Ferry boats were able to offer immediate help. If this guy isn't a hero, I just don't know what a hero is.
His legend is already starting to take form. You see, Sully walked the sinking plane twice to make sure there were no passengers still on board the plane. Of course he did. He is, after all, the captain, and he was the last one off the plane.
I'm really not sure what it takes to become a hero. I am certain, however, that unlike Sully, the work-related choices I make between the hours of 8am and 5pm are not ever going to encite hero-worship.
I think we need to know a little more about Sully. What else can he do for America? Or better, what can't he do. Once you crash land a commercial flight in the Hudson river with zero casualties and receive hero status, you have to wonder if the man has any limits.
Continue reading Sully, America's Newest Hero.
Beard Magic
My wife loves my beard. I didn't don it when we first met, but over time I've grown it more frequently and kept it on longer. Now she misses it when it's shaved. But why? I think I probably grew the beard to begin with out of sheer laziness. Probably in the midst of a few weeks on vacation I quit the razor, then left it alone when it was time to go back to work. If the tables were turned, I might think, "Gee whiz, that's a symbol of laziness. Might you remove it?" But that has not happened. I have my reasons as to why.
Billy Mays has notched himself a very real place in the American conscience. Google his name and see what comes up. I think he may be the most well known American--if by face recognition only--fully bearded man. I think during the 70's it was probably Isaiah from Little House on the Prairie (also Mark from Highway to Heaven). Who could forget how scraggly his beard became when he went on a bender and scared everyone?
I think 10 years ago we all would have voted Al from Tool Time. But this Billy Mays character is everywhere on television nowadays. If you watch television, you've seen him. He's a pitch-man for products. He's done a zillion infomercials, and has graduated to doing national-ad 30 second television commercials. One of his nuances that makes him a little different is that he yells the entire time. I've never figured out how he's effective with this tactic, but he is completely effective with this tactic. Here is what I'm talking about:
Really? Hollering works for moving miniature burger makers? It must be one of those things that only he can pull off. Can you imagine strolling into the local Honda dealership and having a big fella smoothly walk around a new Accord and start bellowing features at you in that tone?
"This Accord has power windows and a moonroof. It goes 0-60 in 6.5 seconds...that's 25% faster than any sedan on the market today..."
Now imagine a big bearded fellow bellowing the same thing at you. You can see yourself listening to him, can't you? You want to know what he has to say, don't you. If the big bearded man is talking, it must be because he has something you need to hear, right? Bearded men don't waste your time, do they?
So I'm starting to think bearded men like Billy Mays and Al and Isaiah are quickly and easily accepted as trustworthy because of their age and beards. Somehow a trimmed beard makes one look responsible. It's like providing to the world a vignette of how you keep your life tended and neat.
Athletes have been growing beards for their respective playoffs runs more frequently over the last few years. The Philadelphia Eagles, for example, are letting their hair grow right now. Hockey players have been doing this for years. You want to know why? I know why: Because Billy Mays does it. Because growing a beard makes you more credible. More mature. It's like every male's superpower for respect that they rarely use.
But you have to watch out. Don't let that beard go untended. If you do, make sure not to get arrested, or you'll end up with this collection of rejects. Nature lets you grow the beard, but nurture ensures you'll tend it properly. When this balance disrupts, rest assured chaos will occur. I betcha those fellas were upstanding citizens until their beard got out of whack. Then meth happened, and next thing you know, you have a mug shot on http://thesmokinggun.com.
Over the holidays the weather up here grew really chilly, and I let my beard grow longer and fuller. Know what my wife said about it? Of course you do. She loved it. And she should love it. She's no different than the rest of America who loves the trustworthy beards of Billy, Al and Isaiah.
Billy Mays has notched himself a very real place in the American conscience. Google his name and see what comes up. I think he may be the most well known American--if by face recognition only--fully bearded man. I think during the 70's it was probably Isaiah from Little House on the Prairie (also Mark from Highway to Heaven). Who could forget how scraggly his beard became when he went on a bender and scared everyone?
I think 10 years ago we all would have voted Al from Tool Time. But this Billy Mays character is everywhere on television nowadays. If you watch television, you've seen him. He's a pitch-man for products. He's done a zillion infomercials, and has graduated to doing national-ad 30 second television commercials. One of his nuances that makes him a little different is that he yells the entire time. I've never figured out how he's effective with this tactic, but he is completely effective with this tactic. Here is what I'm talking about:
Really? Hollering works for moving miniature burger makers? It must be one of those things that only he can pull off. Can you imagine strolling into the local Honda dealership and having a big fella smoothly walk around a new Accord and start bellowing features at you in that tone?
"This Accord has power windows and a moonroof. It goes 0-60 in 6.5 seconds...that's 25% faster than any sedan on the market today..."
Now imagine a big bearded fellow bellowing the same thing at you. You can see yourself listening to him, can't you? You want to know what he has to say, don't you. If the big bearded man is talking, it must be because he has something you need to hear, right? Bearded men don't waste your time, do they?
So I'm starting to think bearded men like Billy Mays and Al and Isaiah are quickly and easily accepted as trustworthy because of their age and beards. Somehow a trimmed beard makes one look responsible. It's like providing to the world a vignette of how you keep your life tended and neat.
Athletes have been growing beards for their respective playoffs runs more frequently over the last few years. The Philadelphia Eagles, for example, are letting their hair grow right now. Hockey players have been doing this for years. You want to know why? I know why: Because Billy Mays does it. Because growing a beard makes you more credible. More mature. It's like every male's superpower for respect that they rarely use.
But you have to watch out. Don't let that beard go untended. If you do, make sure not to get arrested, or you'll end up with this collection of rejects. Nature lets you grow the beard, but nurture ensures you'll tend it properly. When this balance disrupts, rest assured chaos will occur. I betcha those fellas were upstanding citizens until their beard got out of whack. Then meth happened, and next thing you know, you have a mug shot on http://thesmokinggun.com.
Over the holidays the weather up here grew really chilly, and I let my beard grow longer and fuller. Know what my wife said about it? Of course you do. She loved it. And she should love it. She's no different than the rest of America who loves the trustworthy beards of Billy, Al and Isaiah.
Going Old Before My Time
I've been foreshadowing my future self, and that man acts old. Since
I've known my wife, she's never enjoyed my tendency to holler out of a
moving vehicle at people with advice. While she buries her face in her
hands, I dole out my criticism to other drivers running red lights.
I've even yelled, "Watch Ceasar Milan," to a pedestrian getting pulled
by her dog along the sidewalk. I'm pretty sure it's an "old man"
type of thing to holler at strangers about lightweight issues and
perceived slights, but I'm only 32 years old. Apparently my "oldness"
doesn't end there.
My second job ever was manning the checkout lanes at K-Mart, and it was my first experience interacting with the public at large. One of my first observations was the old guys would presume familiarity with me by making comments in line. An old fella with a Members Only jacket and a fishing cap would saddle up to buy one Chap Stic and then ask me if I noticed the humidity sharper that day than the one before. I was 16.
Forrest was checking my groceries recently at my neighborhood grocery store. As I started noticing the weight of my body on the soles of my feet, it occurred to me that Forrest ran about as slow a checkout stand as I've ever seen. Forrest is a high-schooler who seems to be a very nice person, even making eye contact with customers from time to time. Forrest handed me a pen to sign my receipt after a lengthy search of his aisle stand. I noticed it was a red Fred Meyer pen. Every time I've been handed this kind of pen for the past 6 months, the tip drags across the papers without ink and the grocery clerk invariably has to search for a working pen. Now, I can recall at least two lighthearted conversations I've had with different Fred Meyer employees about how the pens never work. Having worked for years at K-Mart, I know exactly how frustrating it would have been to constantly hand occasionally functional pens to customers. I thought maybe I could relate to them a little bit. But Forrest handed me a pen that worked perfectly. Surprised, I looked up at the young man and said chuckling, "They must have ordered some new pens, right?" Forrest smiled back to me blankly and blinked twice. He obviously didn't understand my reference, or his smile was just evidence of socialized, rote conversational etiquette for avoiding another banal conversation with another ridiculous customer about pens. But I'm pretty sure he had no idea what I was talking about. And I know Forrest has been working there for longer than 6 months.
Suddenly aware of our clear disconnect, I returned his blank return, "These pens used to never work, you know?" Vacant eyes again. Very slight lateral nodding of his head, as though he was trying to shoo me away or coach me to stop talking. I suddenly remembered my K-Mart past and felt a little sympathy for Forrest. I could picture Forrest talking with his baggy-pants, shaggy-headed peers in the break room about the bearded buffoon who made a crack about their pens and then acted like he should think its funny or something.
I'll be sure and ask him more about the pens if I ever spot him while driving down the road.
My second job ever was manning the checkout lanes at K-Mart, and it was my first experience interacting with the public at large. One of my first observations was the old guys would presume familiarity with me by making comments in line. An old fella with a Members Only jacket and a fishing cap would saddle up to buy one Chap Stic and then ask me if I noticed the humidity sharper that day than the one before. I was 16.
Forrest was checking my groceries recently at my neighborhood grocery store. As I started noticing the weight of my body on the soles of my feet, it occurred to me that Forrest ran about as slow a checkout stand as I've ever seen. Forrest is a high-schooler who seems to be a very nice person, even making eye contact with customers from time to time. Forrest handed me a pen to sign my receipt after a lengthy search of his aisle stand. I noticed it was a red Fred Meyer pen. Every time I've been handed this kind of pen for the past 6 months, the tip drags across the papers without ink and the grocery clerk invariably has to search for a working pen. Now, I can recall at least two lighthearted conversations I've had with different Fred Meyer employees about how the pens never work. Having worked for years at K-Mart, I know exactly how frustrating it would have been to constantly hand occasionally functional pens to customers. I thought maybe I could relate to them a little bit. But Forrest handed me a pen that worked perfectly. Surprised, I looked up at the young man and said chuckling, "They must have ordered some new pens, right?" Forrest smiled back to me blankly and blinked twice. He obviously didn't understand my reference, or his smile was just evidence of socialized, rote conversational etiquette for avoiding another banal conversation with another ridiculous customer about pens. But I'm pretty sure he had no idea what I was talking about. And I know Forrest has been working there for longer than 6 months.
Suddenly aware of our clear disconnect, I returned his blank return, "These pens used to never work, you know?" Vacant eyes again. Very slight lateral nodding of his head, as though he was trying to shoo me away or coach me to stop talking. I suddenly remembered my K-Mart past and felt a little sympathy for Forrest. I could picture Forrest talking with his baggy-pants, shaggy-headed peers in the break room about the bearded buffoon who made a crack about their pens and then acted like he should think its funny or something.
I'll be sure and ask him more about the pens if I ever spot him while driving down the road.