(Yet another tongue-in-cheek installment of my thoughts as the owner of a modest start-up needlepoint store in South Florida. Enjoy!]
As we approach the end of the Xmas season, I find myself doing what every major corporate titan does at the end of the year: evaluate everything in my business, with an eye to getting rid of the dead wood, so that I can become ever more powerful and control the universe.
Now I don’t actually have any experience as a corporate mover and shaker, per se, but I do know needlepoint.
And the one thing I can about say about that particular subject is don’t always go for the showy fluff.
Minimalism and restraint can be as attractive in a stitched needlepoint canvas as, say, one that is bedecked with 20 or more different arcane stitches and massive amounts of bling, beads and funky threads.
So what does this pearl of needlepoint wisdom have to do with anything?
Well, as a corporate chieftain, I have to decide if I want to keep or ditch Erin’s Twitterverse.
When I started this venture, everyone said: you have to be on Twitter.
I said okay. So I watched Letterman to learn about hashtags and tweets and such, and signed up.
Then I tweeted.
So then I read about more about it on the Internet. Clearly watching Dave on Late Night was not enough homework.
I soon found out I had to have followers. But to have followers, I had to follow.
This language struck me as very strange.
Follow? I’m supposed to follow people? Why on earth would I want to do that?
But I did it.
I created this list, and started following various Arts & Crafts publishing outfits and Internet Retailer ezines. And I fiddled with my blog so that news of my amazing posts would be broadcast on the twitterverse.
After a while, I checked to see if anyone was following me.
But I kept at it.
Finally, after about five months, 1 person came to visit this blog from Twitter.
I was crushed, like totally.
So I did some more research.
This consisted of reading all this slick marketing stuff about how you shouldn’t use Twitter as a spammer, that is to say, have my tweets solely consist of links to merchandise in my store.
Instead, what I really should be doing is engage…. be part of all these conversations, and then the Twitter magic will strike.
First I was supposed to be a follower, then I was supposed to get engaged, which meant I was supposed to have a lot of conversations with people I didn’t know, then, and only then could I achieve digital nirvana and have many many followers who would no doubt buy all these things in my store.
After cogitating over this important new information, I thought maybe, maybe it is true. I mean what do I know about all this stuff?
But then I thought about it some more.
I suddenly remembered I am running a needlepoint store, not some kind of immersive social media salon. I buy and sell handpainted needlepoint canvases. Being a micro blogger is not really my ambition, in the scheme of things.
People who run actual small businesses don’t really have that much time to run around being followers and getting engaged and coming up with all these snappy one-liners on Twitter complete with pics and hiring click farm sham artists to manufacture fake followers here and on Instagram and the rest of all that sweaty-palmed, overhyped digital silliness.
Plus, it struck me, after looking at the dissociated but enormous river of messages to which few seem to be actually paying attention, except of course Arab Spring types and teenage girls, I wondered… re-hmmm… do I really need want to be a part of this? A little voice constantly sending out panicky SOSes to a digital void that never answers back? It all seemed so… desperate, but in a nice way of course.
And if I did, when is it that I would get to run my store?
Just to make sure, I checked Twitter’s stock price during the last 12 months.
Hmmm, yet again.
Looks like I am not alone in reaching certain conclusions about the tweetie world.
Yesterday, a customer’s husband came in to Needlepoint Land to pick up some finishing as I was grousing about the un-nosey parker situation, and told me that his wife would be devastated if I shut down my store.
That she loved coming here, a real place where there are real needlepoint canvases and threads, and would be really upset if it were no more.
I thought about that, and made my decision.
I’m going to ditch Needlepoint Land’s Twitterverse widget. Like so much Internet-related hype, I don’t think it has much to do with the experience of needlepoint stitching.
And if I want to see birds, I’ll just go to the beach.
Tango Face Kiss smiley fron OpenClipart