What It’s Like Not Being A Medium Member
You wake up and part your curtains. Your lawn has turned a distinct shade of brown overnight, and you wonder how green the grass is in your neighbor’s garden — you know he’s a Medium member because his window frame is painted green, but you can’t see into his garden, because of the massive wall, which has also appeared overnight.
You crawl back into bed and pull your laptop from under your pillow. You fire up the Medium homepage, and just like yesterday, the side bar shows the same three stories repeated three times, under the subheading Feminism 2.0. You nod to yourself — feminism is important. Medium must think they’re great stories, you muse, so you read them again. Then you wonder if it’s just a glitch, down to human error — an inevitability when 50 employees are cut down to a couple of part-timers running the operation from a mid-90s laptop in a janitor’s closet. Thinking of the past glory of the Medium offices, you shed a tear.
Then, you browse the sections. The endless feeds Ev Williams so quickly dismisses are mostly gone. And good riddance, too — cheap and common, only fit for those frowning neanderthals on Facebook or Twitter. But you have a nagging feeling that, deep down, you really liked Medium’s endless feeds. They felt democratic, with all stories given equal footing through the same amount of visual space. And the way they used to flaunt the number of recommends? Garish, certainly, but maybe it added to the excitement and helped to fuel a healthy sense of competition? Pah. You’re wrong, as always. You brush those thoughts aside. You must embrace change. You will learn to find solace in roaming within the confines of over-curated pages displaying big stories (the important ones) and smaller stories (must try harder!). You never had great taste, so it’s a blessing to be told what matters instead of endlessly failing to find out for yourself.
In the bathroom, you sit on the toilet, and you fire up the Medium app on your phone. Each section has been reduced to five measly stories. In the hope it’s just another glitch, you re-install the latest version, even though you did it yesterday before going to bed. It makes no difference. You pull up your trousers and tighten your belt.
You have breakfast in the kitchen, and you check your emails. Another message from Ev Williams. Before reading it, you close your eyes and fantasize about what you wish it would say:
Hey there! Medium’s great, isn’t it? Can you give us a wee bit of cash to keep it going? We won’t change a thing!
You open your eyes and read the message. Then you read it again. Then a third time. You’re unsure what any of it means, but you know it would make more sense if you worked for a tech company. As it is, you find all this tech-speak about changing the world a bit confusing, but you’re happy to know you can still contribute, in your own way, by paying a monthly fee, and you feel privileged to have been included among the exclusive group of individuals lucky enough to be given the chance to run out of the trenches in the first wave. The decision’s up to you, and it makes you feel important.
You go to work. Throughout the day, you don’t check Medium. Not even once. You get loads done.
At home in the evening, you reflect on your day, and you vaguely consider becoming a Medium member. You’re unsure in what ways it’ll be an upgrade, but you’re more and more certain that not being a member has become a downgrade. Plus, you seem to understand that members get paid for writing, and God knows you need the money.
Before going to sleep, you don’t browse Medium. You browse Facebook, and think about joining Instagram. Writing is fun, but your phone takes great pictures. Maybe photography’s more your thing after all.
How the other half live:
