Facebook, Instagram: Killing us softly

A few weeks ago on CNÑ (CNN in Spanish that is), in a discussion about social media, an Argentinian expert on the subject predicted that in years to come we'll view our use of Facebook and the like in the same way that most of us view smoking today. 

That is, a dirty, unhealthy habit that we can't believe we actually used to find "cool and sexy".

Insta-life. Or is that Insta-death?

Some people might view such an opinion as rather dramatic. Exaggerated scaremongering from the Argentinian fogey. Maybe so. The jury is still hearing all the evidence on this one, it's not even close to being sent out in order to come back with a verdict yet.

One thing we can say with certainty is that the arrival of social media has led to a seismic change in how we communicate and interact with each other. Save for the invention for real of teleportation, it's hard to see how more virtually connected we can become.

"Physically meeting those we might envy often allays any insecurity issues."

That's the crux of the issue here really: A growing virtual contact at the expense of face-to-face interaction. Worse still — for those on the social-media-is-bad side of things that is — virtual communication, or using our digital gadgets in some way, is dominating even when we are in the company of others.

We've all witnessed it. A group of people at a bar or dinner table or wherever, all with their heads stuck in their personal electronic devices. We shake our heads in disapproval. 

Yet there's a fair chance we've been looked at disapprovingly doing the exact same thing on another occasion. Practically everybody with a smartphone gets "caught" at some stage or another.

A new (dis)order?

The question is, "Is it actually doing us any harm?" Well, we do now have a social media anxiety disorder. A cynic — which I am not, of course — might say that the fact we've "invented" a disorder for it means very little in this day and age.

We've disorders for all sorts of things now where in the past they were simply conditions that required nothing more than a stern "for goodness sake lad, would you pull yourself together", or something to that effect. It's all much more softly-softly now, for better or for worse.

That being said, as documented before, the false impression that social media platforms create of the lives of others can be quite damaging to those susceptible to the "keeping up with the Joneses" condition. "Oh look, there goes Mary on another amazing adventure and here I am stuck in my crappy job." Or, "Bob seems to be doing great with the ladies and I can't hit it off with a single one."

For sure, being envious of others isn't something new, only arriving with social media. It's part of being human. However, our new way of interacting has made it more prevalent, exponentially so. The scale of it has been blown way out of proportion it would appear.

Physically meeting those who we may be resentful towards for whatever reason and, quite literally, seeing "their warts and all", will, more often than not, make us feel a little less insecure about ourselves. 

Social media not only takes that away but it puts us in daily contact with people who we would otherwise know next to nothing about and, I wager, care little about.

Take these (and please, do take them and send them off to some other planet) Instagram influencers. Young, pretty people — it's highly unlikely they'll either be the "wrong" side of 40 or not physically attractive — who make a living out of simply posting about their lives.

"Facebook and the like are dumbing us down."

Fair play to them. They're working the system. It's those who follow them, who give them this platform, those are the ones I question.

OK, if it's somebody who travels or the like, somebody who has interesting, informative snippets to share, there's merit to that. The thing is, many of these influencers don't. White, or whatever colour you want, trash.

Before I'm accused of being a hypocrite, I am fully aware that I play this game as well. As an unpaid blogger and podcaster, I need to use all outlets available to get the messages I write and talk about out there. 

The hope is that what I do will reach more and more people, eventually putting me, brand "Wrong Way" so to put it, in a position to be a conduit for companies to advertise via me and such like.

Obviously, time is ticking on that one. Or maybe I'm already past my "use by" date. I'm just refusing to accept it. Perhaps I should go underground now, back to unspoilt nature.

Whatever the case, I like to think that I use and take advantage of social media — the ideal scenario — more than the other way around. I like to think that, that is. I could be wrong.

Light up, dumb down

We mentioned the seismic shift that has taken place with social media. As a species, we've gone through this before. The printing press, the advent of radio and TV. Massive game-changers.

So rather than seeing the "new kids in town" as dangerous, perhaps we should take a more benign view. After all those older three, although TV to a lesser extent, in my opinion, haven't done us any real harm, have they?

The key difference for me is that all those, in their more dominant days, were agents of positive social change and largely educational.

At this remove and considering how the majority of us currently use social media and, just as importantly, are used by them, we can't view today's dominators in the same light. On the contrary, they seem to be dumbing us down.

They might leave us feeling a bit lightheaded, even sick at times, but the high is worth it. Gotta light? I need my fix.
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It's the service, stupid

Picture the scene: You're a checkout operator and you've just finished with one customer, a lady who left a small bag of vegetables at the cash register, something she decided she didn't want. There's only one other person to be served in a largely empty fruit and veg shop.

Do you first attend to that other person and return the unwanted product to the shelves later, when there's no one else left in line? Or do you nonchalantly return the product to the shelves telling the waiting customer you'll be back in a moment?

Scene of the latest crimes against the service industry.

I think it's fair to say that most people with an ounce of customer-service wit about them would choose the former option. 

An inanimate product should, in most cases — unless it's causing an amount of inconvenience or the like — play second fiddle to a living customer staring you in the face. If not, you run the risk of eventually having no customers at all to serve. The product won't be much good to you then.

Director of Disservice

The thing is, taking the second course of action mentioned above, or something along those lines, is what happens in Colombia far too often to make it an insignificant anomaly. Many working in the service industry here just don't seem to get what that actually should be.

A regular sight is seeing employees focus on what is a non-urgent task, leaving customers waiting. For example, in a restaurant or bar, they'll clean the floor while there are people looking to be served. 'We've no clientele but at least the floor is spotless.' Excellent.

There is no understanding of priorities — if anything is prioritised that is.

'The service industry in Colombia would be a nice idea.'

Linked to this is that very annoying practice of not respecting a queue. While the general public must be berated for this, it is a cultural thing, employees have to take some of the flak here as well. If somebody is known to have jumped the queue, simply don't serve them. Make them wait. And wait. That'll teach them. (Well, it probably won't, but ...)

Now, while we can make excuses for a shoddy service from very poorly-paid employees working in establishments that they don't really care about, we can't do the same for self-employed business owners. You would think that they'd be more attentive to the needs of their customers. Alas, even these types are often found wanting in this respect.

'Not bovvered'

We're not even asking for a customer-is-always-right approach. Needless to say, a lot of the time they're not and it's not always best practice to kowtow to all their demands. The problem here is that at times it's more like, 'We don't give two flying figs about the customer.'

It reminds me of some miserable bar-lady types back in Ireland. You go in for a pint and they make you feel as if you are disturbing them from their soap opera viewing: 'What do you want?' 'Sorry, I thought this was a public house, I was merely looking for a drink. I didn't mean to be an inconvenience.'

This miserableness doesn't tend to be a feature in Colombia, it's more a general couldn't-care-less demeanour.

To borrow from Mahatma Gandhi when he was once asked for his thoughts on Western civilisation, the Colombian service industry 'would be a nice idea.' We live in hope, slim as it is.
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Rednecks rise again

Back in my early secondary school days, as a country lad heading off to mix it with the townies, it was common for the latter to mock us. We were farmer boys, or rednecks, as they say in some parts. 

It was generally a bit of innocent slagging but no doubt it had its origins in the long-held belief that workers of the land were a bit "behind", simple if you will, compared to those from urban settings.

Cattle on Bogotá's northern limits: Bringing a bit of the country to the city.

Of course, the townies of Ballaghaderreen, along with everybody else from "down the country", were derogatorily seen as bog folk, "culchies" being the precise word, by those from the capital Dublin.

Zoom out even more and the whole of Ireland was traditionally viewed as being backward by our "superior" neighbours in Britain. 'Strange specimens those Irish, aren't they?'

City fat cats

Modern, advanced, rich societies emanate from urban strongholds with their schools of excellence and suchlike. Rural areas only get the crumbs, enough to keep them ticking over, from the power brokers seated around that grandiose table. So it goes anyway.

Nonetheless, keeping those seated at the urban table well-fed and content with affordable food is nigh-on impossible without the simple country folk doing their bit to provide it.

'We’re just a few consecutive disasters away from very troubling times.'

The irony here is that while the great advancements in communications and technology have made the world a smaller place, many urban dwellers have become quite removed, mentally at least, from the rural areas that they rely on to stay alive.

OK, they have other, more complicated, complex concerns to worry about. The country serves simply as escapism from the concrete jungle. Engagement with it is at a superficial level only.

What's more, aren't the technological improvements in agriculture and the like, urban brainchildren as most have been, resulting in greater yields and reduced workloads for those who farm the land?

There's merit to that.

Yet, to continue providing for the growing urban masses, more engagement with, and investment in, the countryside are required, not less.

Misplaced priorities

Whether one believes in man-made climate change or not (Donald Trump, considering his age, doesn't have to concern himself with it), we can't deny the fact that we have been experiencing extreme weather events that threaten our precious food supply. We could be just a few consecutive disasters away from quite troubling times.

How many of us would be able to survive in a kind of post-apocalyptic planet, something akin to what we often see portrayed in Hollywood movies?

It would seem fair to say that a majority of First Worlders have become too reliant on our modern comforts, on a lifestyle where we can get pretty much anything we want when we want it.

'We won't be too concerned about our mental health when our very existence is under threat.'

As a species, we could also be accused of vastly overvaluing non-essentials at the expense of the essentials. Think Hollywood again, that whole world of showbiz and fame.

Heck, I left the land I was reared on (as the majority of rural-born people do these days) to go on to pursue a career (can I call it that?!) in media. Fair enough, journalism plays — or at least used to play — an important role as the fourth estate, it can be a force of positive change.

However, the counter-argument here is that this vocation has lost its way and relevance in recent times (whisper it, #FakeNews. Thanks Donald). And don't get me started again on the evil incarnate that is marketing!

On a similar note, a Colombian psychologist friend told me how he wanted to get "back to the land", fearing that without preventative action now he would be useless when faced with a future scenario where one had to fend for oneself for the bare necessities.

As he put it, when it's a simple matter of life or death, very few people will be looking to take the time to think deeply about it all, teasing out the pros and cons. His profession would be practically surplus to requirements.

Basically, and as much as I'm not a fan of Christianity (or any religion really), the old mantra of 'ashes to ashes, dust to dust and dust you shall return' rings true.

The land, the planet will have the last laugh.

Those old backward rednecks who understand it a little better than most mightn't seem so repulsive then.
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Colombia's not-so-magical realism

Back in the heady days of the Republic of Ireland's "glorious" run at Italia '90 — fair enough, the team reached the last eight but did so without winning a single game in 90 minutes — it practically amounted to treason to question the side's approach or not to be fully supportive of the boys in green.

Relax, la Selección is winning, everything's fine! (Image from fcf.com.co.)

The one pundit who did go against the national zeitgeist, Eamon Dunphy, was temporarily banished from his role with the state broadcaster RTÉ. He dared to criticise the Irish performance after a drab 0-0 draw with Egypt.

He wasn't really wrong with what he said but the country didn’t want to hear such harsh truths in the flood of bonhomie and giddy excitement that a first-ever World Cup appearance swept in.

Don't rock the boat, baby!

This was pre-Celtic Tiger Ireland. Much poorer and, it could be said, more innocent times. The nation badly needed a pick-me-up and Jack Charlton's heroes delivered that (some people have even attributed it to playing an important part in the economic boom that was to follow). Clear-headed, unbiased analysis wasn't wanted.

Nowadays, however, it's pretty much a national pastime to be critical of the Republic of Ireland soccer team. It could even be said that some of it is over the top.

Nonetheless, as a nation matures, its people, in most cases, are better equipped to carry out some introspection, as difficult as it may be.

Looking at Colombia from a self-governing perspective, it is older than the Republic of Ireland. Yet, in many aspects, it hasn't quite mastered the art of self-criticism.

This can be seen clearly enough in the soccer (or football, if you will) world, for the beloved Selección.

Now, I've never really believed in the impartial reporter malarkey, especially when it comes to sports commentary, but you'd like to think that such professionals could at least try to bring a semblance of balance to proceedings. Not here in Colombia.

The lads and lassies commentating and analysing on Colombian games see things solely through yellow-coloured (or blue or red when the side is playing in its alternative strip) glasses. Their heavily biased approach only adds further fuel to the fire of an already highly strung watching public. Win, lose or draw, all sense of realism is lost.

"It was the euphoria that led me to stab you. Que pena!"

Take the opening, and fully merited, Copa América win over Argentina. Yes, the Argies have a number of individuals of truly world-class standard. Yet, the reality is, the collective has been much less than the sum of its parts for a couple of years now.

Their form of late against fellow South American teams, for one, has been patchy to say the least. That should be factored into any proper analysis of Colombia's victory. However, on the whole here, it's not.

This isn't to say that it was a "nothing win" for Colombia, not at all. You can make a case for them to go far. Colombia's performance was as solid as what we've seen thus far. But let's just take it game by game for now, keep things in perspective.

Going backwards, at speed

Of course, a country losing the run of itself over football "success" is harmless really, save for the odd violent incident that happens post-match. ("Oops, it was the euphoria that led me to stab you. ¡Que pena!").

In politics and the general running of the country, on the other hand, overlooking facts, ignoring certain obvious signs that things may not be as you're saying they are, that's a recipe for disaster. 

For more balanced commentators on Colombia, there's a feeling that the country's on the slide (two years ago, in Colombia's comedown?, I touched on some of these challenges).

The right-leaning president, Iván Duque, not quite a year in the post, hasn't done much to steady the ship. On the contrary, for many observers, things are in reverse.

There is a theory that keeping the country on the precipice suits certain powerful interests. One wouldn't want to unlock Colombia's great potential for the masses or those of a different ilk. A jobs-for-the-boys kind of approach. Considering this land's history, you'd have to say there might be something to that.

But hey, as long as La Selección keeps on winning, everything's wonderful, isn’t it?
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The accidental gomelo

"You're a posh boy now, a gomelo." So go the jibes from my old barrio buddies now that I find myself living in a swankier part of Bogotá (gomelo, for the uninitiated, is the Colombian word for what you might call preppy types).

Santandercito: Out of sight but by no means out of mind.

Yes, it's true, my move a few kilometres south of my beloved San Antonio/Santandercito sees me placed in plushier surrounds.

The thing is, however, when my hand was forced to move, the chance to live within a more reasonable walking distance — 4.5 km versus 10 km — of the office appealed (I'm still in that full-time job, somehow). Save time and, potentially, money.

"Perhaps I'll embrace the gomelo guise."

For, as surprising as this may seem, the rent in my new Cedritos Lisboa location is comparable to what I was paying out on the city limits. What's more, it comes with much more in terms of furnishings and appliances.

Having a well-kitted-out place is a bonus, of sorts, considering I still, after almost eight years based in Bogotá, have a backpacker mentality when it comes to settling down and making a house a home.

The state of the kitchen in the new abode could yet become a contentious issue, as it often tends to be when sharing. I have to revise my theory that all elderly women always keep their homes in pristine condition. The situation is more than manageable for now, though. 

Stranded

The biggest drawback is that it's pretty much right in the middle of Poshville. That is to say, you have to walk a bit of a distance — not a big deal for me, in fairness — to get back to the barrios populares for the "proper" panaderías, tiendas and all that kind of good stuff.

Some of Bogotá's other upper-class areas, in contrast, find themselves stuck next to the riff-raff. Closer to the centre, La Macarena bordering La Perseveranica, my spiritual home in a way, is one example of this.

On top of being stranded in salubrity, so to put it, these richer neighbourhoods tend to be a little sterile. There's no real life to them. They're bland at best. The barrios, on the other hand, have a buzz about them.

Go gomelo

Nonetheless, for as long as I have this full-time office job, staying in such a stale sector with its proximity to work is fine. 

During the week, with the current eat, sleep, work, repeat routine, I don't really have the time like before to enjoy the barrios in any case. It's purely a weekend delight these days. That's OK. Too much of a good thing and all that.

Or who knows, maybe I'll adapt to my new environment and take on this gomelo guise. "What say you, güevón?" "Osea, Lord help us!"
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Let's talk (reluctantly) about sex

I came across ... ... No, let's use a different phrasal verb considering the subject matter here. I stumbled across — much better — a quote from John Bayley, the (long-suffering?!) husband of the late Irish-British novelist Iris Murdoch. Bayley thought that sex was "inescapably ridiculous", in contrast to Murdoch who, it is said, had multiple affairs with both men and women.

Indeed ... (Image from me.me)

Bayley's "inescapably ridiculous" reference to sex resonated with me. 

I've had a number of sexual partners, the majority being more one-night stands than anything more regular albeit, and I struggle to remember a time when I found intercourse truly enjoyable. Most previous 'engagements' were more like jobs that had to be done rather than immensely pleasurable acts.

More by accident than design

This isn't to say I was purely "selfish" about it, just in a race to reach my climax, to heck with her. Well, perhaps it was less so than by design in all honesty, but I did satisfy my playing partners before I was "done" on a number of occasions — unless they're good fakers/liars, which would never be the case, surely?

Of course, the men's problem, if we view it as such, is that when we reach the "point of no return" so to put it, we have to wait a while to get going again. Women, so it goes, can have multiple orgasms if men (or whoever) can be bothered to take them there.

"Having sex is not the be-all and end-all."

The thing is, referring back to Bayley, I don't tend to long for sex. When I see friends basically fretting about how long it has been since they last did it, I'm rather indifferent. It's not, quite literally, something that keeps me awake at night.

It could be that I just haven't met the right person to properly "get it on with". I could equate it to the time I explained to a friend that my feeling when taking a certain drug was usually unspectacular at best, he suggested I hadn't been getting it at the right potency.

Yet, my own experiences and the relationship hardships I've seen other acquaintances deal with would make me believe that the right person is a bit of a fantasy. You have to let a lot go, settle for certain things if you want to convince yourself he/she is the right person. The way it is for many things in life, really.

Avoidably ridiculous

Now, my rather conservative Irish Catholic background undoubtedly plays a part in this sex indifference (Colombia is traditionally a Catholic country as well, but as I wrote before, that influence has manifested itself quite differently here in many aspects).

The mere mention of the word makes Irish people of a certain generation somewhat uncomfortable. This doesn't mean, however, that they don't enjoy it.

For me, it's certainly not the be-all and end-all as some of my peers seem to believe.

Unlike Bayley, though, I view it as "avoidably ridiculous" these days. For now at least.
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"I is the expert."

An old friend once told me that in the world of gambling on horses, it's best to be in one of two camps: The first is to know a lot about it, where you make an informed, "backed-up-by-facts" decision on your selection. The other is knowing nothing or practically nothing about the subject.

"It's fine, I checked it all on Google Translate."

Obviously enough, in a pursuit where there's an amount of chance at play, neither position is a guarantee for success. 

Nonetheless, in the event of failure, the expert can go back to the drawing board, study harder to be better prepared for next time, assured (as much as one can in this particular game) that his/her superior know-how will help him/her come good.

For the very occasional backer of horses, the one who has no intentions of moving past the novice stage, the just-for-fun flutter that didn't work, it's not a problem. It's a very minor part of such a person's life.

Malign middle ground

It's those in the middle who aren't at expert level, and perhaps never will be, but yet have enough knowledge so as to sound as if they know what they're talking about, to the point that they convince themselves they are right, this is the problem group.

People in this category, unlike the expert, aren't savvy enough to realise where they've gone wrong and, in contrast to the novice, they'll continue throwing good money after bad.

"Sometimes they get too ballsy." 

We can easily apply this three-level concept to the world of language learning. In fact, it could be said it's a great fit for it. 

The experts, generally speaking, are the natives or the non-natives who have acquired an almost-native level. Of course, language is much more than just knowing all the mechanics of it, it's a culture.

It's one thing to know a language that you weren't brought up on very well (and many non-natives who get to this level will understand the rules of the language better than most natives); it's quite another to speak it so you seamlessly fit in with the native-speaking group in question.

Even among speakers of the same language, this can be challenging. For example, look at Chilean Spanish versus Colombian Spanish or Indian English versus Irish English.

On the opposite side, we have the novices, the beginners. In the same way with the horse racing example, if the expert tells beginners to go for X, it's highly unlikely they'll question it. They'll bow to the pro's better judgement. Most of the time they'd be right to do so. Most of the time.

"Google translate trumps the native speaker."

Then there are the intermediate-level learners. They won't always take what the expert tells them as gospel. On occasions, they might be right to do so; their doubts prove well-founded. Nobody gets it right all the time.

However, sometimes they get a little too ballsy, they think they know best, to heck with the experts. This, more often than not, leads to silly mistakes.

Now, in the classroom sphere, that's OK. Live and learn — one is in the classroom to learn, after all.

In the professional world, it plays out a little differently.

All-encompassing experts 

Take the case of a Colombian company (it may be its national airline), dominated, naturally enough, by Spanish-speaking folk. 

From a marketing perspective, it would appear that those calling the shots have an OK level of English, as many high-up people in such big companies do. Perhaps like my Spanish, fine but far from perfect.

As an airline that flies around the world, it not only advertises in Spanish but in English as well, with this advertising being an outsourced job (the vast majority of its advertising is). The final say on what goes public, though, and rightly so really, comes from management.

This is when know-it-all intermediate-level English speakers wielding power are dangerous. They want it their way, in their English (well, with the help of a poor translation from Google Translate).

Fair enough, changing an adjective here or a turn of phrase there isn't a big deal. Yet, when it's grammatically incorrect or confusingly written, and not in a smart way (think of Apple's "think different"), then it's just wrong.

But hey, they know best. "Thems are the experts."

The thing is, being an expert in one field doesn't make you an expert in all. Too much time spent on that high horse can damage the brain.
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