The myth of privacy

During the Superbowl on Sunday, a commercial aired for a car that recites real-time Facebook status updates for you. I thought the commercial was cute and the product absurd. I was also struck by the broader implications of this feature, the definite blow this presents to our notion of privacy online.

Let me paint you a picture
You're having a bad day. A terrible day, really. The copier is broken, which means the repairman is stationed behind your cubicle all morning grumbling noisily into his walkie-talkie. Additionally, your boss promised to have reviewed your presentation last week, and now you're waiting on him before you can make progress. But he still hasn't gotten back to you, and at the moment he's off at a client meeting with one of your other coworkers, who happens to be a good friend.

Finally, you cave. You give up on the morning and post a Facebook status: "Well, this morning is a waste. Can't get anything done while waiting on other people. Might as well play Farmville." There's nothing offensive in this post, and it's really not a big deal. Your profile is locked down anyway. Someone would have to be pretty malicious to spread this to your boss, and you have no reason to worry because your Facebook friends actually like you. You trust them with your information.

But what you don't know is that while you're feeding your flock in a fit of frustration, your coworker (Tina) and boss (Jim) are getting into Tina's fancy new Chevy on the way home from said client meeting. During the meeting, the real-time Facebook status feature in Tina's car was the subject of a brief and interesting conversation. Curious, Jim asked for a demonstration on the way home. Tina gladly obliged. She switches it on, and the first thing that pops up is your status: "Well, this morning is a waste. Can't get anything done while waiting on other people. Might as well play Farmville."

Ouch. Can you imagine what Jim's now thinking of you as an employee? Probably not good things.

You thought you were safe. You thought you could trust all of your friends, and your privacy settings were perfect, so by all reason, this shouldn't have happened to you.

You bought into the privacy myth.

Maybe you're thinking, "What an outside chance. You had to come up with a pretty elaborate story to get a scenario in which my information would be jeopardized."

You're wrong. It's not an outside chance, and I didn't have to be elaborate. I just like details. Here's another one. You post, "Really glad to get out of that dinner!" Meanwhile, at dinner, Guest shows Host a game on her phone, and your status scrolls by the screen. Whoops.

My point is, this is easy to do and common already.

The myth
The internet sometimes lulls us into a false sense of security. We have "privacy" settings and can "hide" information, but those labels are misnomers. There's no privacy. There's no hiding. There's only temporary or conditional hiding.

Until now, the only thing keeping our information within its restricted view is trust in the individuals we choose to share it with. We know that Sally can be trusted with our angst-filled Facebook wall, so we let her see it with no qualms. We know Greg isn't going to turn our private GChat into a company memo, so we go ahead and make a few suggestive jokes.

While we can still trust people, we really can't trust the technology that's delivering our messages to them. Slip-ups, accidental breaches of trust, are increasingly easy. We have to continually remind ourselves that what we say on the internet is subject to a much larger audience than we ever intended: the entire internet.

So what do we do?
My answer is really simple: If you're about to post anything with the hope that someone won't see it, don't. It's the same thing our parents have been telling us for years – if you have to look around before saying something in public, you probably shouldn't say it at all.

If you have any doubts about the content, let it sit for a while - an hour, two hours, or a day. Then, if you still feel like it's important enough to say, and you're prepared for the risk of your unintended audiences seeing it, go right on ahead.

Most of us don't have that much to hide. But if you do have things to hide, I suggest you find other outlets than social media to talk about them.

Joining the conversation about SMBMSP

It's about time.

(In other words, I have nothing to add to Paul's great post. I just really wanted to publicly declare my support for Rick and Mykl's decision.)

The most conservative option

This jumped at me in a comment from one of my favorite bloggers, Allison Greene at Ask A Manager:

"Most attorneys will always first recommend the safest, most legally conservative course of action. That doesn't mean that it's the best one; it needs to be balanced against other competing interests -- legal interests are not the only ones in play."

It's funny that I've never thought of it in those terms before. My response to such extreme legal advice is usually something along the lines of, "What? That's ridiculous!"

Example:

HR: "According to our attorney, if we ask employees to respond to questions on our Facebook Fan Page, we could be held responsible for information on their profiles. So we are going to ask all staff to have a separate work Facebook account."

Me: "What? That's ridiculous!"

As you can see, my current response is not exactly helpful nor likely to produce results. I think it will be nice to at least have the ability to respond, "Yes, that would be the most legally conservative option, but I'm not sure it's the best one for our situation. Let's look at some other factors..."

That sounds significantly more reasonable.

Thanks again, Ask A Manager!

Fits of fancy

I'm prone to short-lived bouts of infatuation with various things - food, people, topics, activities, routines, even punctuation marks. Something will pique my interest, and then I'll entertain myself with it till I tire of it and move on. I'm sure there's something to be said about my perseverance in this trait, but that's not what I'm here to talk about.

I'm here to talk about people.

Like with anything, I sometimes get very interested in certain people. And thanks to social media, it's alarmingly easy to find out a great deal about someone's life. Through just a few clicks, you can learn who someone is married to, how old their children are, where they work, why their last relationship ended, the last place they went for drinks, what they drank, etc.

Often people use ugly words for this sort of curiosity, referring to it as "stalking" or "lurking," and I can't blame them. It's creepy to think that someone would follow every word you say, would know more about you than you think they should. We all assume people are occasionally tuning in for glimpses of our life, not reading the novel all in one sitting.

But what happens when a fit of fancy causes me to idly meander through your musings, tweet after tweet, post after post. Within 20 minutes, I know a whole hell of a lot about you. And suddenly, without even realizing it, I've accidentally surpassed the socially appropriate amount of knowledge for two quasi-strangers to have about each other. Yet all I've done is consume content you've made public.

My own curiosity, my inquisitive nature, has made me uncomfortable on many occasions. I don't mean to learn so much about people, but the voyeur in me always wins.

And you put the content out there.

I say this because although many of us preach the importance of safeguarding your online presence, few of us really comprehend how much of ourselves we share with the world (not sure I'm among them).

Personally, I'm a bit of an exhibitionist - I'll be flattered if you know anything about me. But others seem to almost recoil when you know something about them. And as a consumer, I don't think the burden should be on me to stop when you feel I've had enough. The burden should be on you to only give me what makes you comfortable.

Maybe that makes me a creeper, a lurker, a stalker, or any number of unpleasant monikers. Or maybe that just makes me honest. I have a sneaking suspicion we're all consuming much more of each other's content than we're willing to let on, and these ugly labels are just cover for embarrassment about our own voyeurism.

But then again, maybe it's just me. Feel free to block my creeper bum now. (After you've commented to prove that you're not lurking, of course.)

Crazy Facebook moment

Here's a new one. Last night I was at a bar with a friend, scrolling through Facebook statuses on my phone while she was getting a drink. I see a status from Husband's aunt, saying (paraphrase), "Asking for prayers from my mom, who has been admitted to the hospital with pneumonia."

So I call Husband and ask him how he's doing, if his parents had called him. He responds, "Umm... no. Why?"

Then I proceed to tell him that his grandma is in the hospital.

Weird, right?

P.S. If you are worried about Husband's grandmother, his take is that his parents will call if it's serious.

Intersection of personal and professional spaces

When it comes to the intersection of personal and professional spaces online, I'm a bit of a radical. I believe that you cannot and should not try to live two separate lives online, that your two lives must intersect in a big way -- an eight-lane superhighway way.

Your work is a part of your personality, and your personality is a part of your work. It has been this way for centuries, and social media hasn't changed anything. More personable salespeople sell more cars. More connected authors publish more books. More attractive politicians get more votes.

You have always been asked to the table because of both your skills and who you are. Success has always been measured in connections (unless, of course, you are a brilliant scientist... but even then, you'd need someone to even listen to your outlandish theories, wouldn't you?). Your personal network has always been part of the equation. Your personality has always been a factor, too.

So why do I find myself advocating for the intersection of personal and professional lives when it comes to social media?

This is something that truly baffles me, particularly in my organization.

As a member-based organization, we have folks who routinely spend their evenings and weekends hanging out at community events, talking to new people, recruiting volunteers and members, and just being the face of Girl Scouts. These are stellar employees who form relationships with members and leverage those relationships for the good of the organization. They put themselves out there. They wear their Girl Scout insignia to the grocery store. They call their husbands and mothers to come volunteer at an event when they're in a pinch. They lead their daughters' troops.

Their personal and professional lives constantly intersect.

So why, when it comes to Facebook, are they uncomfortable interacting on the fan page from their own personal profiles?

Why is HR proposing that all employees should create a second, "work" profile in order to respond on our fan page?

Why is it that, when it comes to social media, people suddenly clam up?

Yes, I'm putting our organization on the spot, but it's just an easy example. I'm sure this is a common concern throughout many nonprofits, and maybe in the private sector, too.

People want to change the rules when it comes to social media, but none of the issues are new.

• "What if a customer wants to friend me?" = "What if a customer asks me to coffee?"
• "What if my profile picture includes my kid?" = "What if I'm seen with my kid at the mall?"
• "Customers might see pictures of me drinking." = "Customers might run into me at the bar."
• "I don't want to speak on behalf of the organization." = "I don't want to speak on behalf of the organization."

I know that for some of the issues, the scope is increased. But it's essentially the same thing you were dealing with before. Your online presence is just a public presence; the only difference is your likelihood of being found.

I guess, to some extent, I can appreciate the desire to have separate identities in your work and personal lives, but I don't recommend striving for segregation. You simply can't be happy that way, nor can you be successful.

And at the organizational level, should we really be making policies that enforce this segregation? That encourage employees to be not people but cogs? That discourage employees from integrating their personal and professional networks? That cow to employees who are unwilling to bring their true selves to work?

I don't think we should be. Yes, we may open ourselves up to risk if an employee publishes offensive content. But that risk is already there. And, honestly, that content will be there, with her name attached, whether we try to manage around it or not.

We ought to be encouraging employees to bring their authentic selves to work, and we should not be providing easy outs for those who are unwilling to do it.

You can only succeed, and your organization can only succeed, when you are willing to integrate your personal and professional lives. This has always been the case and will continue to be the case with social media.

Being the squeaky wheel

Had an interesting experience with Comcast this weekend. Husband and I finally decided to give up cable and start a Netflix/Hulu diet. The decision was borne partly out of frugality but mostly out of a need to break bad habits. (Seriously, how many times do I really need to watch the "Diversity Day" episode of The Office?)

Saturday morning the cable guy came to disconnect us. He was 3o minutes early and completely neglected the we're-on-our-way call, thus waking us with the doorbell and causing us to scramble out of sleep to run to the door. Lovely way to start the day.

Now, I was somewhat apprehensive about the big disconnect, nervous that something would go wrong with our Internet in the process. And sure enough, Internet was down a few hours later, at which point my patience with Comcast was officially shot.

Then Husband called them. Estimated hold time: three minutes. Actual hold time: 15 minutes. Enter: fuming rage.

Husband spent the next 20 minutes on the phone with a tech; no avail. They set up an appointment to come check it out Tuesday afternoon.

Tuesday afternoon! This is Saturday, and we just had our cable disconnected. Unacceptable.

So what did I do? I turned to trusty Twitter and threw my anger about, knowing full well that Comcast is a company that responds to tweets.

Yes, I chose to be the squeaky wheel. And guess what? It worked. By Sunday afternoon, our Internet was back up and running. I squeaked, and I got the grease.

I was extremely grateful for Twitter and @ComcastMelissa for making our problems go away. And then it got me thinking about how the company is using Twitter in their customer service matrix.

Twitter's role in customer service
What was the cost of us getting our problem resolved? Some innocent Comcast tech was going about his regular Sunday routine (probably already completely booked), when he got an order to add a rush job to his plate to deal with "some corporate thing" (his words). Don't get me wrong -- he was absolutely congenial, helpful, and courteous. But I knew we'd probably screwed up his day.

What are companies like Comcast going to do as Twitter gains scope, as more people get the "tweet to cheat" memo? This model can't possibly be sustainable. You can't routinely send your front line on emergency errands just to protect your online presence. Can you?

Should you?

I know your online presence is important, but so is the sanity of your front line.

And what about the customers who have to actually wait until Tuesday to get their problems fixed? Do they deserve lesser treatment just because they didn't run their mouths?

Realistically, if you're using Twitter as a customer service tool, you're going to need a better plan in place than one person pushing her agenda down to the front line at all costs.

Have other companies found a way to do this better? What tactics are they using to ensure that both the customers' and employees' needs are met?

Surprising success

Saturday, prior to our annual meeting, Girl Scouts held an event called the Girl Summit, in which we gathered girls in grades 6-12 and asked them to talk about Girl Scouts. They had discussions, recorded thoughts at their tables, and placed Post-its on posters throughout the room.

Additionally, I took this opportunity to set up a Tweetwally for the event, just to see how girls in this age group would react, knowing full well that this is not the audience for Twitter. The suspicion was that girls, like adults, would think it was pretty cool (I've been told that "cool" is officially outdated and they now say "legit") to see their words projected on a screen.

Because most girls do not currently use Twitter, we provided laptops that were already signed in to a special council-owned Twitter handle: @GirlScoutVoice. Girls were able to use these computers to tweet at any time during the event, using the hashtag #elementsofleadership to appear on the Elements of Leadership Tweetwally.

Results
I was anticipating a handful of tweets, maybe 25 to 30 - a few useful responses, some quotes to show volunteers and staff members. But my expectations were blown out of the water. In 90 minutes, @GirlScoutVoice generated about 100 tweets.

Obviously, that's nothing compared to most adult events. But for girls, the participation seemed impressive.

It's telling that almost all tweets with the hashtag were from the council-owned Twitter account. Girls really aren't on Twitter, but they did like to play with the cool toy. And they did take it seriously. Although several girls got a bit silly ("I <3 COWS!!!"), most gave honest feedback about what would make Girl Scouting better for them.

So what?
For youth, maybe the best thing we can do is give them a space to play - a space specifically created for them, rather than an invitation to play in an adult's playground (Twitter and Facebook). One girl at the event floated the idea of "GirlBook," like Facebook but just for girls.

I think there's a false impression that youth don't care about social media, when really, youth just don't care about Twitter and Facebook. These are adult tools. And unlike adults, who feel overtaxed by invites to myriad networks and would rather just have everyone in one place, youth may truly value exclusivity and a sense of belonging to something made specifically for them.

Maybe this has all been said before, but I'm excited to finally have a real, relevant example in my pocket of how girls are willing to interact online. I'm really hoping to use this modest Tweetwally experiment as a lesson to help us design a great user experience for girls as we create a new website.

The lingering question for me is, "Would girls have participated without the promise of anonymity?"

P.S. Dibs on GirlBook.

Contradicting myself

This morning I was fortune enough to be part of a great MCN presentation team with Meg Canada and Lindsi Gish, who are both rockstars. We talked about using social media for nonprofits, and I was spouting one of my favorite beliefs - that employers need to trust employees to have personalities while representing their organization online - when I realized that I brazenly contradict that viewpoint in my own management of social media profiles.

In one breath, I'm saying that we want employees to self identify and tell their stories. In the next: "Oh me? No, I don't like to broadcast who my employer is on my personal accounts. I want to represent me, not Girl Scouts."

Naturally, it's because some information is not suitable to Girl Scout ears - while Meghan may think that an article debunking Cosmo's most recent hot tips is both interesting and relevant, I highly doubt Girl Scouts feels the same way.

So I once again end up at the same question I've asked a hundred times before: Whose responsibility is it to bend? Should I turn myself into a good Girl Scout online - talking only about the nicest, safest, most vanilla things - because I'm a representative of my employer? Or should Girl Scouts be willing to become an amalgam of their employees' collective personalities - articles about sex myths included?

It's a tough line to walk as an individual. It seems like I should be able to have my own personality, but thinking about it further - does my personality belong to my employer online?

What do you think? How much of yourself should you be willing to subjugate for your employer?

I, for one, am stumped.

MIMA Summit

Raise your hand if you had fun at the MIMA Summit. (I did, I did!)

In the past couple of weeks, I learned about the MIMA Summit, decided I wanted to go, learned about a contest by Ech03 to win a ticket, produced a video, and won a free ride.

Here's the video that got me there:




Yesterday was the Summit, and it rocked.

Thanks to Jen Kane, I got to sit at Kane Consulting's corporate table for both keynote sessions, as well as Twitter host two sessions. The whole experience blew me away.

Although much of the content of the actual sessions was fairly... easy to find in a typical day's Twitter stream, the experience of being among so many people who are excited about social media--and being an actual part of it all--was enormously satisfying.

I met a whole bunch of people in real life (IRL) who I only knew through Twitter, which was a thrill (one I'm trying to get my fiance to understand). And through most of my interactions, I truly felt like part of a community.

Maybe someday the awe of being part of a "tribe" will wear off, but I hope not. I've been having markedly more fun in the past several weeks than I've ever had in my professional life. This group is fun and welcoming, and I am grateful to be part of it.

Thanks to everyone who made MIMA Summit amazing.

Now looking forward to UnSummit on Saturday.

Getting employees on board

I need advice. At our organization, I am heading up our "social media efforts." Basically, I run our Twitter and Facebook fan page. I also do a fair amount of research and have an ambient awareness of what's going on in the social media world. I have a basic grasp of what everyone else is doing, and as part of Gen Y, I adapt to these tools pretty easily and am intrinsically convinced of their value.

My boss is incredibly supportive of using social media, and she takes a fairly hand-off approach. I am flattered and think it's fantastic she trusts me to take control. However, I am a peon in the organization, having no clout beyond worker bee. Plus, I am young, 24. I think I look and act a little older than that, but people sometimes still treat me like a baby--laugh about my childish lunches and my naive optimism. That doesn't bother me so much, but it does indicate that I am perceived as a child, which greatly impacts my credibility.

That being said, I am not sure how to convince other employees of the value of using tools like Facebook. Right now I am the only employee engaged with the page, and I'm doing it from behind the avatar of our logo.

You know and I know that social media is most effective when it adds a personal element to the organization, when people are connecting to people. They want to see faces, talk to real staff members. In order for that to happen, staff will need to use their personal accounts to interact with the page.

I've tossed this idea out to a few coworkers, and I keep getting the same reaction. "No, that's my personal page. I don't want to mix it with work." And I can almost see that I-can't-believe-this-silly-young-whipper-snapper-with-her-crazy-ideas look on their face.

I understand where they're coming from. Really, I do. But (big but) that mindset needs to end. With all the privacy controls available, there should really be no reason not to expect employees to use their faces to interact with the organization's social media.

And so working under that assumption, I come to you for advice. What insight can you offer? What techniques have you used to convince others? What tips do you have for a young person to inspire confidence in her skeptical coworkers?

I'm open to hear anything you have to offer. Thanks for your help!