In a week I’ll be conducting a social media workshop for a group of service club leaders. I wouldn’t be nearly as prepared but for a recent schooling I received on the subject from someone half my age.
The impromptu education session wouldn’t have phased me, except for that thing I have with being competitive about stupid stuff. Which is how this is also a story about how my better judgment got a workout, wrestling with the desire to wring a certain college student by the neck.
A brawl would have disrupted our meeting. And you know I’m all about decorum.
The young woman in question doubtlessly thought she was being helpful. She’d been invited by a well-meaning member of our group to introduce our gaggle of middle-aged(ish) ladies to the social media tools she believed were critical to any relevance we hoped to have, whatsoever.
“I went out and did a search for you guys on Twitter,” she said. “People are talking about the stuff you do, but you don’t even have an account.”
