When it’s time to play my great deathbed scene on social media, it might just go something like this.
Scene: hushed hospital room, sole patient in bed, unconscious
Setting: darkened room, blinking lights and beeping equipment plugged into wall, and attached to patient (who appears to be in a deep coma)
Patient (stirring): Wait . . . Nurse! (fumbling) (muttering) Where’s that damn call button . . .
(Sound effect) Buzzing call button
Anonymous Voice (from wall speaker): Yes? What do you need?
Patient: I’m not ready to die just yet. I forgot to say good-bye to my 2,436 fans on Facebook, and let my 16,723 Twitter followers know to follow me on @lifesupport, and add my death to my LinkedIn career updates . . . and I didn’t have time to +1 my doctor on Google+ . . . .
Let’s face it, none of this social sharing will actually matter when we’re on our deathbeds.
But while we’re alive . . . how much does it really matter? The questions I face whenever I’m on social media are probably no different than the ones that plague you:
1. Why isn’t anyone commenting on my clever Facebook posts?
2. Why hasn’t my latest insightful tweet been shared by anyone besides a bot?
3. Who are these strangers lurking around my LinkedIn profile and what do they want?
4. What does it take to get some damn +1s from my Google+ followers, anyway?
5. Why don’t more people comment on my (clearly insightful) blog posts?
6. When will I actually benefit (ie, get rich) from any of this?
Why does that even matter? Sadly, it all seems such a priority now. But luckily, these questions aren’t the ones that will plague me long before I reach the end. And they’re certainly not the ones I’ll hear in my own head on my deathbed. The real questions I’d ask myself, if I were being really honest, would be:
1. Why didn’t I take time to stop and smell the wildflowers?
2. Who are these strangers hovering around and murmuring about being Facebook friends with me while I’m pretending to be unconscious?
3. Where is everyone I really care about, anyway? ♣