Tech Ability and Access: How YoPros Have An Edge and Why We Need to Give Back

In my New Media and PR class last week we touched on the corporate trend of establishing highly responsive customer service teams on social media platforms like Facebook and Twitter. Several classmates shared examples of how they tweeted to various companies like JetBlue about flight delays or booking issues and were responded to within minutes; they even occasionally received additional perks and touchpoints from those customer service reps. It's an amazing innovation in customer service, and as someone who has used Twitter to praise and bring up issues with companies like Zappos, Comcast, Peter Pan and Greyhound Bus lines, and HootSuite, it is refreshingly satisfying to receive a direct response (even if it isn't a solution) from an identifiable person. But when I think about the hours I have wasted on the phone to get someone at Sprint to pick up the phone and then get transferred to eight different departments, I began to wonder if other people are still forced to endure that lack of customer service because of the mediums they utilize? Does (unintentional) discrimination exist for communities that either don't have the tech literacy (e.g. the elderly) or access (e.g. low-income families) to use social media?

The Curse of the Online Footprint

I was uploading photos to Facebook this morning from St. Patrick's Day and was suddenly struck by an overwhelming feeling of "miffed." It wasn't because Struggle City, population iPhone's Facebook app, sucks at uploading multiple photos (but seriously, let's get on that Facebook). It was because I had to be so damn picky about which photos I uploaded. They were pictures of St. Paddy's Day, so let me be the first to spill the beans that there were snaps of drinking and drinking games. But my friends and I are all well over 21 and the games were helping some non-acquainted friends get to know each other. No one had their head over the toilet or was drawing inappropriate things in Sharpie on anyone's faces. It was good clean Irish fun. But I didn't post any of the photos that contained a Solo cup and I didn't tag anyone in the photos. My Facebook photos are on lockdown-- only my friends are allowed to see them and I have a list of people who are excluded from seeing anything personal I post. I even worried that some of my friends wouldn't want the pictures posted just because they might be associated with a St. Patrick's Day party. It made me miss the days when Mark Zuckerberg designed Facebook to be a social network among college students. Back then it was ok to show a person blowing off some steam with a friendly game of Beer Pong without thinking that they were a horrible alcoholic lacking in morals or public decency.

I recently attended BU's PRSSA PR Advanced conference where a panel of young PR professionals described what it takes to land a job and chart a career in PR. One of the panelists mentioned the importance of being authentic. He used to have two identities-- work Mike and real Mike-- and he never let the two intersect. After realizing that this was a) exhausting, and b) didn't let people get to really know or trust him, he merged the two personalities into just Mike. It was pretty refreshing to hear someone say this and demonstrate that you can be successful being yourself in the workplace. But when a conference participant asked him if that same rule applied to compromising Facebook photos or candid Tweets, he said that you probably shouldn't be a person who takes those kind of photos or Tweets those things to begin with.

I agree with him to a certain extent-- if I'm an employer and I see that my potential Director of Communications is still participating in wet t-shirt contests 10 years out of college, I might have some reservations about hiring you or letting you be the face of my company. But it seems like young professionals are being hyper-critically judged by their actions and their Internet histories. Right now, it's ok for me to host a "wine tasting" at my house because that's considered classy, but drinking a beer out of a Solo cup on a porch at a BBQ makes me a philandering party animal.