Ask Anything

I used to be a social media professional , until someone asked me at a dinner party what I did for a living, and I answered “I am a social media professional”, and I felt compelled to punch myself in the face until I couldn’t even feel it anymore.  The dawning revelation that I was not only at an actual dinner party, but was also an actual social media professional – and telling an actual stranger about it at an actual dinner party was too much to bear.  As was the realisation that I had so often been using the word “actual”.

The emotional crisis this caused is not at issue here; suffice to say, I am no longer a(n actual) social media professional.  

Anyway, while I was a(n actual) social media professional, I advertised the fact (it is hard to tell this story; every detail makes me shudder with the memory), hoping to “increase my online presence” (ugh) and “maximise opportunities for growth and innovation” (out my way, I’m gonna puke).             I advertised the cold, hard, disgusting fact thusly:

“I’m here to help – ask me anything.”  Obviously, in reality (actual reality), I was in no way interested in helping anyone on social media as part of my role as a social media professional, any more than the minister for culture has any interest in culture.  So, you know, my personality got the better of my professionalism and I began to post things like this:

“Ask anything.  Unless it’s where babies come from.  That’s more than my job’s worth.”

Which got quite a good response (Several Likes, a couple of “lol”s).  So, I thought of another, the next time I sent the same kind of message, I write:  “Welcome to [the workplace; name removed on legal advice], I’m here to help and answer your queries.  Ask anything.  Unless it’s about trams.  There aren’t any trams.”

Realising this would provide a rare and welcome opportunity for creative flair, I jotted down a few for future use.  And here they are:

Ask anything.  Unless it’s about the Harry Potter books/films, which are for children.

Ask anything.  Unless it’s about Champions’ League football, which is awash with dirty money.

Ask anything.  Unless it’s about House Music, which leaves me cold.

Ask anything.  Unless it’s about Star Trek.  (I’ve never seen it.)

Ask anything.  Unless it’s about Ipswich.  (I’ve never been there.)

Ask anything.  Unless it’s about a TV show you like.  TV shows you like are rubbish.

Ask anything.  Unless it’s about Boris Johnson, who strikes me as a thoroughly nasty piece of work.

Ask anything.  Unless it’s about British Indierock, which is mostly shit.

Ask anything.  Unless it’s about Kurt Cobain, who is massively over-rated.

Ask anything.  Unless it’s about “ink”.  I haven’t got any.

Ask anything.  Unless it’s about “popular music”.  I just don’t understand it.

Ask anything.  Unless it’s about the Disney film “Frozen”.  I haven’t seen it.  (It’s for children.  Also, Disney are Nazis.  I don’t mean the (potentially true) allegation that Walt Disney himself was a National Socialist-supporting massive racist, I mean the (entirely true) statement that almost everything they’ve ever put out is horrible and entirely fascist.  Except The Lion King, which is based on Hamlet, isn’t it?)

Ask anything.  Unless it’s about you and your life.  I honestly couldn’t give a fuck.

Ask anything.  Unless it’s about any Channel 4 or BBC 3 programme, because they make me want to hurt people.  Just generally.  But specifically, you.

Ask anything.  Unless it’s related to a Buzzfeed list.  They are for wankers.

Ask anything.  Unless it’s about the music of Years And Years, who I really cannot stand.

Ask anything.  Unless it’s about Brangelina.  I have no idea what that is.

As you can see, I got bolder over time.  I must admit I didn’t use all of the above, but I did use most of them.  It’s hard to see self-destructive behaviour at the time in question.  But in retrospect I can see that this job simply wasn’t for me.

The sad thing is, it actually was quite a good job, I just didn’t have the stomach for it.  (Also, my face hurt from the smug expression I just couldn’t tear off my worn face.  It was issued to me along with the ID card and key for the executive bathroom.)

It’s safe to say, my social media presence is now, at worst, semi-professional.  So, I ‘ve made a new list.

Don’t ask me anything.  I don’t really feel like having a conversation mediated through a screen.

Don’t ask me anything.  I’d rather not tell you the answers.

Don’t ask me anything.  I don’t even know you.

Don’t ask me anything.  OK?

But that’s a bit jaded and downbeat, isn’t it?  A terribly maudlin way to finish a blog post, even for me.  So, in the spirit of my former (“actual”) professionally-social-media-saturated self, and in attempt to make the best of things, here’s another, better one:

I’m on social media, for some reason.  I’m not really here to help, but I wish you no specific harm.  Ask me anything.  As long as it’s about FA Cup Winners, 1980-1995.  I can name them all.

Ask me anything.  As long as it’s about Jeanette Winterson, who is some kind of genius.  (She has looked deep into my soul, and, instead of recoiling in horror, has written some really illuminating, beautiful books and written some things I really needed to read.  Such as:
“The conspiracy of women shocked me.  I like women; I am shy of them but I regard them highly.  I never guessed how much they hate us or how deeply they pity us.  They think we are children with too much pocket money.” 
Imagine reading that as a 17 year-old boy.  If I could write female characters describing male characters’ attitudes to females while disguised as females as well as Winterson wrote that male character describing female characters’ attitudes to males while disguised as a male, well…..I’d probably spend a lot less time writing all this shit to impress you.  Whoever you are.)

Ask me anything.  As long as it’s about The Smiths.  They are the best band ever (NB: this is not open to debate).

Ask me anything.  As long as it’s about Goodfellas, which is a work of unrivalled perfection, and also the funniest non-comedy film ever.  (Unless you think that’s Full Metal Jacket, in which case you might have a point, ask me about that.)

Ask me anything.  As long as it’s about the combination of chocolate and peanut butter, which is humankind’s greatest achievement.

Ask me anything.  As long as it’s about the view I saw this morning.  It was lush.

Ask me anything.  As long as it’s about the time I met Stephen Merchant.  (It was quite funny.)

Ask me anything.  As long as it’s not about social media professionalism.  I have seen, and survived, the Dark Side.

Or, better yet, don’t ask me anything.  Tell me something.