Use this (other) simple trick to become popular.

Flatter people in a way that suits you.

Anyway, back to popularity.

Facebook is a lot older than people think. It hasn’t always been in the same iteration we’re currently pretending like we’re used to. They’ve been in a constant state of reiteration forever, so we’re used to that anyway.

Once upon a time, there was an iteration of Facebook called having an actual face. I know it might be surprising to hear. The idea is terrifying, I know. But there was a time when people actually went out and talked to each other. They used an early iteration of the Messenger app. It was called being near each other, and they used it to do something called “talk.”

Sounds messy, I know. Anything could happen. You might meet people you didn’t expect. You might need to you know…say things — the horror! Things to say! No popular subcultures reduced to a picture and some bold text. Only people alternately mumbling, tripping, and bragging.

They had memes back then too, but it was difficult to carry the sandwich boards around, so you had to be more selective about them. You’d never want to be caught out on a day when you decided to bring Grumpy Cat only to discover that today your only coping mechanism is Nicolas Rage.

It would be possible, of course, to try to bring two. Maybe hang Grumpy Cat on your front and Nicolas Rage on your back. The only problem with that is no one else would know if you were coming or going, and people might start to think that you “can even” after all. Which might not represent your status that day at all.

…

Is anyone going with me on this? Sandwich boards? Signs hanging on the front and back? Like that scene in Die Hard with a Vengeance? Except with memes on them?

No?

Skip it.

I think we’ve lost something in the retelling, as it were. You know? There was a time when the equivalent of your Facebook profile picture was how you chose to dress yourself up when you went out. And you’d stay in touch with people by inviting them somewhere for a conversation.

Now, when you’d like to stay in touch with someone, you give them your social media information. “Yeah, I’m called Stella in real life, but if you look me up online I’m called Bunny BuntSmuggler. Yeah, little bit of a stalker situation. Sorted now, thanks to habeas corpus laws (ha! Kidding…not kidding). That’s only if you look me up on Facebook. On Instagram you need to find Steella99. I kept the typo. Hipster, right? And on LinkedIn you can find me as Ralph Nadir — don’t ask. It couldn’t be simpler! Keep in touch!”

I feel lost most of the time.

These days, whenever I introduce myself to somebody, maybe at an airport or something, and I know that person will want to stay in contact, but I really don’t like them, my first instinct is always to tell them as much of my social media information as possible. Nothing seems better guaranteed to end an annoying friendship before it starts than the vortex of anonymous fuzz posing under the lies that are the words “social” and “media” and “network.”

That’s just not flattering to a person’s ego. It’s a convoluted way of saying, “find someone else to bother,” as far as I can tell. Unless you are framing it as a puzzle, and you’ll be expecting to meet them every other week to time each other’s straitjacket escapes, I don’t see the point.

You’ve got to make people feel good about themselves, if you want to be friends, sometimes. You’ve got to find some way to flatter each others’ egos.

What I quite like to do is give them my card. It’s a personal calling card, with my name and a little contact information on it, and space for notes if I need to write something specific like the name of a cafe or something.

I’d like to give people my card. Happy to do it. It’s something you can hold, and it can be entirely yours. You don’t see them that often, so you might feel special getting it. As you should. It’s a special thing. Maybe it gives you a glimpse to a less hurried age when people approached social contact less aggressively. It gives you a chance to think about me for a while and decide whether you even want to reach out. Maybe you don’t. Maybe you’ll keep the card to yourself and never reach out. And that’s fine, because we all have free will. I have respected you and your ability to choose for yourself. I’ve recognized that you’re a human being, and I’ve made a small gesture to flatter that about you.

An elegant, respectful solution to the problem of creating social contacts. Personal calling card. I love to give them out.

And I ordered ten thousand of the fuckin’ things. Who wants one? Seriously. Want to build a castle? Wallpaper your den? Create your own tarot deck? Anything. I’m sick of looking at them. I’m seriously considering changing my name to Lenny and growing a second mustache so I don’t have to associate myself with them. I can’t cope. Please, just, help me shift the things.

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