Category Archives: Marketing

Unfriend Energy Drainers: Social Media Self-Care

Two parts:
1) The story of my non-friend Matt, the annoying Facebook power-user (energy drainer).
2) Your to-do: unfriend your Matt. Healthy social media boundaries that may seem rude are digital survival.

1. Background story

I have an acquaintance we’ll call Matt. I met Matt about seven years ago through a mutual friend whom I no longer know. Matt friended me on Facebook the day after we met. We’ve met in person twice, the last time over five years ago. We live in different cities.
man holding phone looking at facebook login screen
Matt seems to watch my (very infrequent) Facebook posts like a hawk, as he comments on nearly every one. For several years, I averaged about three posts per year. This year I’ve been posting more often because I started a YouTube channel about career advice and Facebook is one of the most effective ways to share this content. I feel a little gross every time I post on Facebook, but it’s the easiest way to let more friends know about my videos, and many have come out of the woodwork with kind support. Yes, there is some good on FB.
I don’t trust Facebook. I’ve been effusive in this blog and on podcasts about its ill effects on society. This sums up my feelings.
 I don’t like to feed the Zuckerberg money-printing machine with my thoughts and likes and keywords, let alone my conversations. I think people who spend a great deal of time on Facebook and post a lot, who use Facebook Messenger in place of text or email, are often ignorant about the precious personal information they’re giving away.
Facebook is an addictive product that we should view like we do nicotine, alcohol, and fast food – it’s produced by a young, entitled, insanely wealthy company that has always asked forgiveness, not permission. Facebook is a drug: the dopamine it produces is addictive. The lifestyle and apparent happiness level comparisons it invites damage users. The research is clear. We seek to limit our intake of all other drugs. Make the connection.

2. Unfriend your Matt

You probably have at least one Matt in your Facebook network. He seems to spend an inordinate amount of time on Facebook, noticing your every post. He comments on almost everything. He wants to incite debate and further comments. He is addicted to notifications. He posts lengthy comments, sharing his opinions, seeming to invite controversy. He is a time suck at best and a pollutant at worst.
 man looking at phone screen with facebook logo in background
Matt wants to be seen and and heard. Matt’s dopamine production is attuned to Facebook notifications in the purest Pavlovian sense.
He’s hooked, and you’ll pay.
A couple times a year, I will share an Instagram video from PETA or Jacked Animals. I don’t push my mostly plants diet beliefs on anyone, but sometimes I just want to remind my friends that if we all ate less animal, our health and planet would be better off. The way I share it, it’s a simple, undeniable, and short message. No vitriol and not there to incite and host a debate about veganism.
Frankly, you can’t refute the fact that factory farming is animal abuse that’s awful for the environment; and that the standard American diet (SAD) causes disease and rising healthcare costs. I am past the point of being a 16 year-old interested in debating meat eaters on any of this. I know the facts, and that’s enough for me. Unfollow me if you don’t want to see the occasional post saying something like this:
screenshot of facebook post sharing PETA video
Matt posted a three-paragraph comment on this asking about the minutiae of my diet and asking me if oysters are sentient and where I draw the line. It’s a boring debate in which the aggressor tries to poke holes in the argument that advocates for animals or the planet by changing the subject to speciesism. I’m tired of the defensiveness when I simply shared facts. I realize that things like diet are tied up in a whole mess of identity, family, and politics. But I didn’t say everyone should be vegan. I’m not black and white on it. I just said brutal murder of these intelligent animals isn’t necessary; there is a real arbitrariness in our choices of pets vs food.
The point:
This isn’t the first time he has written an unwelcome essay on my wall. I have no interest in being connected to Matt. We aren’t real friends. (Do you realize that Facebook is so powerful that it has redefined “friend”?) I have no interest in passively acquiescing to host Matt’s contentious, speciously academic/curious comments on my bare bones wall.
Of all walls, mine is the least of a free-for-all comment spree inviting debate. It’s not my duty to let Matt post whatever he wants for all my network to see because I’m afraid that deleting his comments or unfriending him might hurt his feelings. His feelings are not my concern because see point A: we’re not friends. My precious mental energy is my concern.

I unfriended Matt.

Unsurprisingly, within three minutes, he realized I had and sent me this message:
facebook message
Garbage in, garbage out:

Many of us put up with the unwelcome presence of others who lack etiquette, who seek attention, who abuse social media, who overshare, who depress us, who drain us.

We host them in our social feeds and our lives for the sake of appearances or politeness. We need to filter our inputs better.
Information and energy that we absorb from those around us impacts our moods, ideas, and creativity. Facebook has been proven to depress users. Sometimes Facebook even experiments on users to see how tweaking the algorithm will affect our depression levels. It’s sick stuff. Protect yourself.

If something is a time suck without clear benefit, just unfriend the sucker.

Don’t toe-dip with Facebook’s “take a break” feature. (Kudos to the FB product development team: this fence-sitting middle ground between following somebody and unfriending them is a great way to keep up the average size of users’ networks and ultimately increase engagement).
social media icons on iphone screen

Facebook. Is. A. Business.

It doesn’t exist to help the world or create connection.
It can do good and it does connect us. But good is a chance by-product, while certain results include wasted time, news from one’s own echo chamber, and proven depression due to competition and jealousy.
After ten years on and off it, when I use Facebook, I unapologetically prioritize my experience over the perceived etiquette of the Matts who don’t deserve my energy.

My First Boss

I just found out that my first marketing boss, Kris Hart, died four years ago at the young age of 48. Somehow I hadn’t heard, and I’m processing. I want to tell you about what she meant to me. While I’m late in the sense of her passing, I’m right on time from a career vantage point.

I met Kris in August 2009. I had graduated from Michigan a year before and moved to Atlanta on a whim without a job. We connected online and she invited me to Murphy’s on a Thursday morning to interview me to be her nanny. After a year working for the Institute for Social Research, I wanted to work a couple part time jobs before committing to another 9-5.

Being on a budget and unfamiliar with the city, I declined her ride offer and volunteered to meet there. I walked what turned out to be two humid miles in 90-degree weather from Midtown, arriving sweaty and hopeful. Thanks, MapQuest. The literally messy nature of our first impression due to a lack of smartphone maps and Lyft makes this memory sweeter and more real. I remember falling in love with Atlanta a little bit on that walk as I hurried, checking my watch, and admiring the lush tree-lined streets and varied architecture of the homes.

house in Atlanta
Argonne Avenue NE

It was 11am and quiet in Virginia Highland. Kris ordered us mimosas and we began an honest conversation about my background and her needs. I liked her immediately. Afterward, she told me I was bright, educated – not a fit: she wanted someone to take care of her toddler and new twins for years to come. I agreed and moved on. I also stored the memory of Kris in my nascent vision of whom I wanted to become: a very together woman – successful, magnetic, beautiful, kind yet firm, and seeming to have it all.

Kris Hart photo
Kris Hart

Eight months later Kris emailed to ask if I still lived in Atlanta and wanted a job. She was the new CMO at an entertainment company and offered me a marketing role reporting to her. For me, the rest is history. We lost touch but I’ve thought of Kris many times since.

Kris had poise and smarts and cool. She had an impressive resume, too. In 2007 as VP-brand management for Harrah’s Entertainment, she oversaw the historic $5 billion merger of Harrah’s and Caesers, creating the world’s largest casino company. Despite all her accomplishments, Kris was approachable and humble. You never saw her stress personality and she handled office politics, swinging dicks/male egos in the boardroom, and entitled consultants all with class and efficacy. Kris never micromanaged. She gave me autonomy even though I hadn’t earned it yet. She gave me public praise. She listened to my ideas. She asked great questions instead of instructing. And she was fun. I loved many things about working with Kris at Premier Exhibitions. And I learned a ton, which set me up for the next decade of navigating companies.

Among other sexy brands like BODIES: The Exhibition, Kris handed me the reins on social media for RMS Titanic Inc., the Salvor in Possession of Titanic. This was a few months before Expedition Titanic, a major dive that our company sponsored with an oceanographic dream team. I helped publish dive footage and launched social around it in partnership with History Channel, National Geographic, Woods Hole, and others. I was 23 years old with almost no experience. What an opportunity.

Titanic The Artifact Exhibition logo
One of the properties we marketed

Kris saw something in me over a drink discussing babysitting, and I’m so grateful. I think she saw my potential because she had the gut for it. Working with her launched my marketing career, a field different from my psychology and academia plans. Her encouragement was instrumental in building my confidence in an area I had never studied, a craft I learned purely from books, blogs, podcasts, and paying attention at work.

I’m lucky to have had such a strong, competent, and kind woman as my first marketing boss. She empowered me. Thank you Kris. Sorry I’m so late. You were great.

Kris Hart obituary

map of Atlanta Midtown
Walking to meet Kris

BeanCast 441: Garanimals for Advertising

I was back on The BeanCast this week. Bob said it was one of the best episodes ever! but he always says that…

  • I played devil’s advocate regarding whether TV is dying (it pretty much is)
  • During the #AdFail5, I got to share my eosteric knowledge of jars from my Etsy baking days (some of you may remember my jar cakery, Adore a Jar Bakery?)
  • David Spark called me out when I complained that we don’t have one dashboard to end all dashboards – he said I should create one – he’s right
    • What Chris Baccus and I really want is simply for all our data to match

Listen: BeanCast 441

March 20, 2017

Click to subscribe to the #1 marketing and advertising podcast

Adapted from  original post by Bob Knorpp on

Antisocial Virtual Reality – Retinas Deep

I’m finally reading Ready Player One, Ernest Cline’s dystopian future sci-fi novel that’s chock full of awesome ’80s culture. It’s a fun read, accurately called a “nerdgasm” by John Scalzi.

Brief synopsis: In 2044, an energy crisis has resulted in widespread economic despair. The OASIS is a virtual reality simulator in which many people escape the depressing world. It functions as an MMORPG (massively multiplayer online role-playing game) and a virtual society. High school student Wade Watts spends his days seated in an old cargo van in a junkyard wearing his VR visor and haptic gloves, attending school inside the OASIS and hunting for OASIS creator James Halliday’s Easter egg. (Full synopsis here.)

“In the OASIS, you could create your own private planet, build a virtual mansion on it, furnish and decorate it however you liked, and invite a few thousand friends over for a party.” p.57

15% through the book, these were my first two thoughts, one somewhat unique to me and the other not at all:

  1. OASIS users sit for hours or days on end. They probably take about 200 steps per day (bathroom breaks).
  2. The OASIS replaces real life interaction like Facebook on steroids, and it’s a scary but fathomable progression.

pop art woman wearing virtual reality goggles saying OMGPlenty of people have written about whether Facebook could become a sort of OASIS. It’s clearly on Zuckerberg’s radar with the acquisition of Oculus Rift in 2014, and the fact that the company hands every new employee a copy of Ready Player One.  All covered.

What interests me is whether technology will make our future lifestyles even more sedentary and less interpersonally connected than they are today. In a world that enjoys VR more than IRL, we could really lose our ability to interact in a vulnerable, face-to-face manner. That’s already happening with smartphone addiction (social media and checking behaviors). People are more likely to complain on Facebook about daily offenses by neighbors, fellow drivers, or rude cashiers than to confront one another. But furthermore, in an increasingly virtual future, our bodies could either atrophy (if food becomes scarce) or expand even more (if foodstuff replaces real food and we subsist on cheap sugary cereal and microwave dinners). It’s not a pretty thought.

I like technology. I like the idea of free, globally accessible information. It just worries me that we’ll all be sitting on our asses not talking to each other even more. Instead of being thumbs deep, we’ll be retinas deep.

Two girls playing hopscotch on playgroundOn the bright side, quite the opposite of Wade attending virtual school from his van, here’s an elementary school in California where students have standing desks.  Bloodflow improves cognitive function and learning. Add in some VR use with open source global libraries and submersive educational experiences. Maintain real outdoor recess and give them standing desks – that’s promising.

Why I’m a Rude Shopper

I can’t remember the last time a Kroger cashier thanked me first. They’ve reduced the number of staffed checkout lines and replaced them with mostly self check-out, which is a topic for another post about stealing. So there is at least 60% less human interaction than there was fifteen years ago, and today’s interactions tend to be robotic and thankless.

Many Kroger stores have a great organic section and the prices are very competitive, so I tolerate it. Publix has an abysmal organic section with a few overpriced, bruised Fujis and some wilted lettuce for $6, but better customer service. I’d rather go to Kroger and pay less for better produce with a subpar checkout experience than get gouged at Publix for a mealy apple with a smile.

woman with basket facing produce aisle

This may seem contradictory to the point of this post, but stay with me. In the end, I want value, and I’ve become accustomed to poor service because I live in this world. But I do one thing, which may make me seem rude, because I’m holding out for something better.

One woman who works the mailroom at my building doesn’t even say hello when a resident walks in. She just waits for you to ask for your package, then silently skulks off to fetch it. She hates her job. (She is the only bad egg there – the rest of the staff is pretty pleasant, and the manager is a real gem.) But interacting with her leaves a film of bad juju on you for at least an hour.

boxes and packages stacked on shelf
Hey Chewy!

This is the opposite of customer delight. Remember my post about the clunky way that customers have to sign up for a Target RedCard? Similarly, in order to cancel your LA Fitness membership, you need to log in to then print and either mail or bring in a cancellation form Monday-Friday, 9AM-5PM, when most people are at work. Here’s Step 1 after clicking on the form. It contains nothing more than your name and ID. You don’t even sign it. I enjoyed the irony of the third “choice”: you have to mail a hard copy but they cannot confirm receipt of said form unless you have an email address. Then why can’t it all be done via email? Of course it could. Nice retention model: inconvenience. The customer-last nature of that policy alone would compel me to cancel if I didn’t already have a bunch of reasons. (I haven’t been a member for years, I just return to this example because it’s so often salient when I talk about customer service.)

Make Eye Contact and Say Hello

It’s all too common that during a store checkout or badge swiping at a gym, the cashier or greeter senses your presence without looking up. Items are scanned or a key fob is swiped. There’s no eye contact or greeting. And there’s no “thank-you” afterward, unless it comes from the customer. Of course some businesses have excellent customer service, and Stan Phelps has collected some fantastic purple goldfish examples, but it seems to be increasingly rare.

out of focus business people waiting in lineOver time, the effect of being shuffled through impersonal assembly line transactions has a negative impact on all of us. And when a cashier at Whole Foods actually says hello, smiles, and thanks you, you don’t mind paying for the experience. Note: Whole Foods is only Whole Paycheck if you shop the aisles and buy pre-prepared foods.

The difference made by a cashier or server who makes eye contact, offers a greeting, and thanks me first upon payment is a contrast to most transactions. We’ve come to expect the exchange of money for goods to be mechanical. Where the customer is seen as polite by offering thanks first. (If the salesperson did something to help you, like finding your blouse size, of course thanking them first makes sense, because it’s for a specific action. But for the transaction itself, no.) The person taking the money should thank the customer first. And the customer should say, “you’re welcome, and thank you.” The order matters. Maybe this is why we love to shop online: although the thank-you page is automated, at least it happens in the right sequence.

Thank you for shopping with us today, [smile], we appreciate your business.

You’re welcome, and I look forward to returning.

I would like to close this with a strong statement like, “This is how you stay in business.” But that would be a lie, because tons of retailers and stores don’t train their employees to interact with gratitude and politeness, and these businesses are well in the black. Maybe our widespread addiction to phone checking, which really equals checking out of the present moment, has created a status quo in which rudeness is acceptable. Maybe I’m reading too much into it. Either way, I’m holding out – I don’t thank first when I hand over money.