Face It - February, 2009

My BFF has a way of cutting to the chase. If she had been in “The Wizard of Oz,” she would have been the first person to look behind the screen and announce that there was just an ordinary guy back there, not some wizard. She took the same kind of view of Facebook, the popular social networking website that links friends together, and summed it up with a succinct, “Who cares?”

She has a point.

After all, we live in a culture where too much information (TMI) abounds. When someone inquires, “How are you?” or “How was your weekend?” what they really want to hear is “Fine,” not that you had your boil lanced or that the relatives came over and Uncle Elmer fell asleep in your favorite chair.

Then along comes Facebook, where never have so many said so much about so little.

Facebook demands to know what you are doing now. Right this minute. C’mon, give it up. And so people feel compelled to fill in that blank. If you ever think your life is dull, just sign on and you’ll feel at least as interesting as your “friends” on Facebook. Facebook is like a confessional, and people decide to proclaim their crankiness on any particular day. For every person training to be a museum docent, there are 10 people who are “stuck in traffic,” “exhausted,” “reading the paper and having a cup of tea,” or doing something equally compelling. See, your life’s not so bad.

And then there is the issue of “friends” and the etiquette of the medium. You have to request that someone be your friend, so you get requests from people who were in your first grade class, who worked with you 10 years ago or who kind of know you through someone else. In the real world, almost none of these people is likely to have your home phone number and talk to you on a regular basis – or at all. Oh, sure, it was kind of, maybe, a little interesting to hear that the guy from first grade is now a grandfather, but that just made me feel old. Maybe I’ll see him at a high school reunion someday, but until then, thanks to Facebook, I’ll be advised each time he goes to In-N-Out Burger and shares that information.

And speaking of friends, what if you don’t want to be friends with someone? You can ignore the friend request, but is that a breach of on-line etiquette (paging Miss Manners, Miss Manners, please report immediately)? The problem is, every friend I have also has friends, so each time Mary becomes friends with Eleanor, I see that on my screen. I kind of know Mary but have no idea who Eleanor is, so why should I care what she has to say? And then there are the people who go on-line 10 times a day and tell you what they are doing, invite you to stuff and promote their own personal and political causes. I actually “defriended” someone whose constant proselytizing bugged me – but she’ll never know (or so I am told). Finally, looking at the time stamp associated with each entry (17 minutes ago), I have to wonder: Is anyone actually working out there? Shouldn’t most of you who are stuck in traffic on your way to work be working when you finally get to the office? I smell a Facebook addiction here.

I had a comment from someone about my photo and how I hadn’t aged a bit. Are you kidding? First of all, yes, in fact, I have, but thanks for lying, and second, the picture was taken at least five years and 30 pounds ago. Do you really think I’d post a picture that makes me look like I actually look?

The latest Facebook fad is “25 Random Things About Me,” where you and your friends list 25 random things. Note that these are random things, not necessarily interesting things. In my list (yes, I succumbed), I included such juicy tidbits as: “I make my bed as soon as I get up,” “I only eat Bumble Bee brand tuna,” and “I can make a loud noise with my tongue that amuses young children.” Wow, aren’t you glad you know these fascinating things about me?

Some good can come from Facebook. When my 15-year old nephew’s cell phone died, he used Facebook to get contact information from his friends, who responded in nanoseconds (he also told me not to send him a friend request because I was not about to be included among his hundreds of friends and associates). You can ask for restaurant suggestions, vacation ideas or good books to read. You can take pop culture quizzes on movies and TV shows, post links to websites you like, or share pictures from your vacation, assuming anyone will want to see them, that is. I have compared movies with people with similar tastes and have heeded their suggestions. So you actually can share useful information.

So in the end, Facebook provides what amounts to the on-line version of the conversations I used to have in the elevator going to the office, except with much less emphasis on the weather. In other words, small talk – some interesting, some not so interesting, most completely unnecessary but occasionally amusing. But if your entry for the day is, “I’m tired,” then assume my response won’t be, “Thanks for sharing.”