My Value is Not Determined by a +1
Or a like, a thumbs up, or a clap
I write this as I wrap up a stint in Atlanta where I’ve been attending a marketing seminar the last handful of days. The topics discussed were what you might expect from a marketing conference: leading with authority, SEO, influencer marketing, the mobile revolution (a little late on that one), and increasing value for your brand.
The branding keynote was an interesting one, and something I’ve considered a fair amount lately. We all associate ourselves with certain brands. We buy into them. When you think of Victoria’s Secret, who do you picture wearing her sexy little outfits? What about Under Armour? How about Ray-Ban? My guess is you pictured a Kate Moss, a Michael Phelps, and an Adam Levine, or any generic representation thereof.
Brands are important, or at least that’s the idea we’ve been fed by the media and the thousands of ads we see every day. Some of us even choose to shape our lives based on the picture a brand paints of us. Others choose to chase after their own personal brand. It’s a concept that’s been shoved down our throats for years, as identifying as an individual in a data-driven world where we’re each a point on an overpopulated scatter plot has become increasingly impossible. The more data they collect, the less unique we become.
How many of you occupy the same space I do? Are you 25–34? Male? Caucasian? Have a Bachelor’s degree from Every School University? Never married? Employed full-time?
I imagine a fair number of you identify with the bullet points above. We can take it further.
Do you like the outdoors? Do you make online purchases 3–5 times per month? Do you feel objectified when you see an ad for the kayak you were literally just telling your friends about, but at the same time secretly feel affirmed that you can get $100 off this weekend only?
Suddenly our personal brands aren’t so personal. They are simply labels for the categories we most closely fit into. The harder we push back against the unidirectional needle, the more emboldened each individual note becomes.
It isn’t enough for us to uniquely identify ourselves with the way we dress, the types of exercise we subject ourselves to, or the foods we eat. We now have to share these things with our network of cogs. We choose every day to promote our personal brand to others so that they might buy into it. So that they might purchase your brand with digital currency. Not Bitcoin, but likes. Like, shares, and comments put the gold standard to shame. Their value, while transactionally worthless, are a dopamine hit straight to the brain. They empower us to share, share, share so that you might entice that girl you slept with one time in college to like, love, or loathe.
Suddenly you have a sounding board for your stories. You can show off your new Nikes, or the Blue Apron meal you expertly crafted, or the wingtip of Southwest’s 737. You think you are creating value, creating your own little economy where you set the market price of each photo and opinion you share. This is how it’s justified. With each like or comment a smile creeps into the reflection of your 6-inch screen, but it’s quickly lost in blue luminescence. What you’ve just created isn’t value for those who cling to your experiences, it’s envy, and that’s the high you were looking for.
“So jealous!”
“That looks sooo good!”
“You look so cute!”
“Wish I was there!”
My online vernacular is outdated. So sorry if I misrepresent everything the internet holds dear.
We’re not looking at the ocean through our toes. We’re not even looking at the ocean through our toes through the screens on our phones. We’re looking at the ocean through our toes, through the screens on our phones, through the lenses of our peers. We’ve been trained to base our enjoyment of experiences proportionately to the amount of engagement our shitty little concert video gets on Facebook, Twitter, or Snapchat. Can you imagine being at Chester Bennington’s, Chris Cornell’s, or any other legendary performer’s last show, constantly refreshing your feed to see how many people are envious of you? How many likes and views you’ve gotten? These performers are literally ripping their hearts out on the stage, and you’re screwing up your spine waiting to see how rich you’re getting in the Land of Likes.
My stomach was twisted into knots writing that, thinking of squandering the last chance I’d ever get to see a musician perform.
I’m the last one to beg for forgiveness though. Especially since the irony of sharing this post on a platform which celebrates personal soapboxes isn’t lost on me. Truth told, I’m not even writing this to make anyone feel bad. I get it, truly I do. I’m only about seven months sober when it comes to my Facebook newsfeed. I won’t do it. I won’t touch it, and I sure as shit won’t like or comment on anything. Not even once. The only reason I keep my account around is for advertising. Let that sink in.
I don’t hate you for drinking the blue Kool-Aid, I’m just asking you to be careful. We’re sneaking deeper into the woods each and every day, and soon we’re not going to be able to find our way out.
Check all of the boxes that apply:
- I’ve accidentally spent more than one hour on Facebook without realizing it
- I open Facebook / Snapchat / Instagram when my hands are idle
- I let the opinions of others on social media affect my mood and the outlook of my day
- If one of my posts doesn’t get a certain number of likes, I will delete it
Thanks for reading, clapping, and subscribing.
