RUTHERBLOG

Do you ever regret something that “seemed like a good idea at the time?”

A few years ago, I signed up to a business contact site called Linked-In. It’s proved to be a very useful tool for keeping up-to-date with the career moves of some of the more distant stars in my personal galaxy.

So far, so good.

Then came Flickr.  That started as a place to post some photos, but soon became a virtual photography club, with commentary streams, assignments, links to individual portfolios and more bitchy comments than at a fashion show.

Facebook next. “What on EARTH are you doing signing up to THAT for?’ some of my colleagues asked. But having been convinced by a friend (friend: n: a person who you have met, at least once, in the flesh) that he was using it for serious business purposes in the US, I leapt in. And it’s now the principle way of staying-in-touch with a lot of people in my life; even my wife – and I live with her.

I should have stopped there.

Next was a brief dalliance with Plaxo; then a one night stand with ZoomInfo. I was in danger of going off the railes, and not keeping my relationship commitments.

One of my Linked-In contacts  then sent me an invitation to Xing. The name should have been a warning signal: It’s not pronounced ‘zing’, like normal people would assume, but ‘crossing’. ‘Nuff said.

I duly clicked ‘Accept’, given that Linked-In is US-centric, and ‘Xing’ claimed to be more European.

A few weeks later, a previous business partner who I had ‘run into’ on Xing dropped me a line asking if I would give him a reference on ‘Naymz‘.

On the basis that I avoid hairdressers with signs that say ‘Cutz’ or ‘All Tressed Up’ or ‘Get Your Locks Off’, this should have been a ‘No’. Then again, there are exceptions that prove the rule, and I did once get a quick trim at ‘Hairy Poppins’, so I signed up.

IN THE GAME

A wise man once said that life is like a sewer: what you get out of it depends entirely on what you put in. Well, like any other club, the same law of nature applied to social networking sites. And putting more in takes time.

The developers of these sites know that, and know that they have to fight for mine. So they’ve created a symbiotic relationship between my presence on-site and my email inbox.

Spam used to be the enemy. Now it’s notifications from Naymz.

Every time someone ‘looks at my profile’, I get a notification. (On no account sign up for one of these things if you have paranoid tendencies; you’ll end up like Robert De Niro in ‘Taxi Driver’)

After receiving 15 of these on Day 2, I thought I’d better check what I had signed-up for. And it’s really rather disturbing.

It describes itself as a ‘Reputation’ site, and depends upon each of the members ‘rating’ the other members. Based upon the comments, your profile ends up with a ‘RepScore’ up to 10. You also get bonus points for completing your personal information. And for having a good picture. And nice teeth.

I’m currently rated an 8. One of the most competent people I have ever worked with is currently rated 2. But she hasn’t given details of her blood group or her bank accounts, so I think she’s being penalised.

Of course, now I’m in the game, and a few people I know have given me a rating, there’s an emotional contact that says that I must do the same for them. And I’m not likely to say ‘s/he’s an untrustworthy, irresponsible idiot’, so I don’t really see the point.

But all this pales into insignificance when compared with the parallel universe that is ‘ecademy‘.

THE FLYING FINN

I think it’s a networking site for the self employed, consultants and owners of small businesses. And having done that, I can see the merit and applaud the intent.

But does ‘Norman’ have to email me every time something happens?

This morning, 8 people have looked at my profile. I then stupidly made the mistake of clicking on links back to a couple of them, and now one has taken me under his wing as his new best friend, and is sending me automated messages sincerely (sic) hoping that we can work together.

The site itself makes on-line stock trading displays look like a masterclass in  minimalism. It’s a cacophony of tidbits, with a steady stream of member updates; each time someone, somewhere, changes something, I get to know about it:

- Jaya Ray has started a club;

- Sam Suvanto in Finland has changed his profile;

- Ameen Internet Marketing Guru (for that is his name) has been rated ‘good’ by H K Prabhakat;

- A lady called ‘Cat’, founder of ‘Scambaiting World’, has dropped me a note wanting do business sometime in the future.

And so it goes, and so it goes. Real-time, line-after-line of data points, giving each member their moment of visibility.

Andy Warhol was wrong: fame comes to us all, but it only lasts for 15 seconds.

To get any more than that, you have to commit a lot of time. It’s the unspoken truth of web presence: relationships – in the flesh or through the screen – take effort and commitment because the web eats content. Registering on these sites isn’t enough to get work or stay visible or build a ‘reputation’ – it needs commitment. It needs you to turn up.

Perhaps that’s the next meta-career – the personal networking assistant whose job it is to keep your profile current in the websphere?

Because, if you’re earning a living, there sure isn’t time to do it yourself.

Popularity: 30% [?]