This week, I decided to go with a topic that appeals to our mutual interest in technology, propensity toward carrying iPhones and general ability to embarrass ourselves in a variety of situations. Plus this just happened to me last week. And it was pretty damn awkward. Let it be a cautionary tale to all of you.
So, as I’ve been having a variety of interesting issues with my 1st Generation iPhone, one of which includes basically just sitting around and waiting for it to die, I have yet to download the updated FaceBook app. I hope, but don’t know, that this application has a better way to look at the photos of people you haven’t seen in five years. Because, currently, you slide the pictures back and forth with your fingers to browse through an album. Easy and user friendly? Yes. But this also happens to be the same gesture you use to tag and untag photos. At this point, you’re probably starting to see where I’m going with this…
So, I’m lounging around the other day, waiting for Greg to finish a bowl of cereal or do pull-ups or something, and I start futzing on FaceBook to kill time. It was a pretty slow news day, but I stumble across my college roommate’s pictures from a vacation in Italy. I’m a sucker for Italy, so I decide to check out her trip. I don’t make it past the first picture when, in an attempt to slide to the next shot, I end up somehow opening up the feature that lets you tag yourself. It gives you the option to enter in someone’s name, but it also conveniently fills in your own name for you so you can awkwardly tag yourself in other people’s photos with one click. At this point, you’re probably REALLY starting to see where I’m going with this…
Well, I haven’t seen my freshman year roommate since a post-college run in at a Murray Hill bar. She’s was kind of girl who used to accidentally lock herself in closets and perform interpretive dance routines around our room. One time, after she broke up with her boyfriend, I walked in after class to find her sobbing hysterically, slathering lotion on her face and listening to “Desperado” on repeat. Clearly she was always an interesting and funny person. Therefore, I said to myself, besides the beautiful Italian scenery maybe these photos will afford me some entertainment. And I was right. The aforementioned first picture is one of her posing with a mannequin in buttless pantyhose. Some how, in an attempt to close out of the tagging mechanism that I inadvertently opened with a one deft finger tapping maneuver, I manage to actually tag the mannequin’s butt as myself.
So, what do I do?
A) Ignore it and pretend like it never happened
B) Privately message her to explain the situation and hope she’ll think it’s funny
C) Using nothing but a paper clip, a rubber band and a straw, break into her apartment building, guess her laptop password, delete the offending email, reject the tag request and get out of there before anyone is the wiser.
Well, you guessed it folks. I do none of these things. Instead, I write a public comment on the photo. Something along the lines of, “Heh… not sure how I just tagged myself here. Stupid iPhone. But um, Hi and hope all is well!” I figured that this way, I'm drawing optimal attention to my mistake - and not only from ol' roomie, but also from all of her friends, family, former lovers and anyone else who might look at this album.
So I sit, and I wait for her to acknowledge my awkwardness with an “Lol!” or perhaps even a more subdued, “Haha.” But no. Nothing. Silence. In fact, I'm still waiting. Probably because she now thinks I’ve been harboring a major girl crush since 2002 that has lead me to compulsively peruse pictures of her family vacations on FaceBook.
So, kids… what’s the lesson we learned here today? Say it with me now: If you’re going to use FaceBook as a tool to kill time by looking at photos of people you haven’t seen in years and have minimal contact with on a day-to-day basis, at least do it on your laptop.
