We were sitting in a meeting. My boss was talking.
“Blargity blah blah blah, and also bleh blargh….”
My co-worker tapped me on the shoulder.
“He’s talking to you,” he whispered out of the side of his mouth.
I could feel my face burn with flush as I looked up, my boss still talking. The others who sat around the table were giving me the side eye, aware — and amused — that I was totally busted.
I wasn’t listening to the bossman. But it was important.
I was on the facepage.
Dealing with a bully.
There’s this mean girl who won’t leave me alone. Yes. Mean Girl. Like the movie. The one with Regina George.
Only this mean girl isn’t a teenager in a fictional film. She’s a grown ass woman. A REAL one. I’ve been around her forever but frankly didn’t notice how awful she was. But here she is, once again, terrorizing me on that stupid facepage.
And holy hell is she kind of a bitch.
I don’t know when this actually happened, but it’s been happening for a while now, and it’s especially noticeable on social media. She is snarky and blunt. She cuts people off (as much as you can do in type). She has favorites and rolls her eyes at other people’s posts. She screen grabs them so she can show them and sneer about it with others. She is ALWAYS RIGHT. Don’t even try to argue, she’s in your face with her rightness and her-let-me-prove-its.
And she’s not letting up.
I’ll give her this though…
She. Is. Adorable.
I have officially entered the most ridiculous phase of my adult life. At 41, I find myself glued to my smart phone. Clicking on apps, counting up likes, posting nonsense, pissing people off.
And I don’t know what the hell is going on.
We spend all this time giving aggressive eyerolls to the youth of world. Those Millenials. They’re so full of themselves. They think it’s important to post photos of every scone they eat, every outfit they wear, and god forbid they don’t announce when they go to the gym. We get it. You do pilates.
But the fact is, if they are full of themselves, its only because someone else is feeding it. And that someone is pretty much the rest of us. For as Gen X as still am (hello, I have THREE butterflies tattooed on me!), I’m as self absorbed as anyone else.
It’s not a bad thing, to be self absorbed. To a point. I mean, sure, there are a handful of truly selfless folks in the world. But pretty much zero of them are on the facepage. It’s quite literally your own internet page with your name on the top and every word typed is about your thoughts and your feels and your needs and your hilarious whatevers.
I found myself recently counting likes.
Then I was comparing them.
“I have more likes than her, and she’s kind of a beast, so I am totally winning.”
“More people looked at my post than his post, score.”
“I’ll just type this” *clackity clackity clack* “And…… boom, send.”
Did I mention how old I am?
Yes. I’m 41 years old. FORTY-ONE.
Which is how many more likes I got than that jerk, zing!
I’m older than Joan of Arc and the Virgin Mary COMBINED, and I’m counting my likes. And getting annoyed at people for not liking me more, or faster, or better, or in a more vocal way. I can only assume that the people who don’t fall all over themselves over my words are all…
Because they certainly are talking about me behind my back. There is no other explanation. They can’t stop talking about me. That’s why they aren’t talking about me.
I’ve become such a narcissist about my social media, I’ve literally gotten in ACTUAL fights about it. Because people are talking. And they might be talking about me. They probably are. I need to go check.
While my boss — a real and actual person who gives me money — is ACTUALLY talking to me.
And then finally make it back home, where I sit at home and obsess over it more.
Not the assignment my boss just handed me. No no. I obsess over the likes.
This is officially the dumbest I have ever been in my entire life. Most of the people who I interact with in this way? I don’t really even know them. I think I do. But I don’t. And since there’s enough narcissism to go around, I think it’s only fair to say, they are pretty much in the same boat.
I took the facepage app off my phone. I had to. I can’t stop clicking it. And reading. And deciding what’s about me even when it makes no sense that it could be, but I’ve turned into someone so self absorbed I think that EVERY COMMENT IS HIDING AN AGENDA.
And who am I ignoring in the mean time?
The ones who do know me. The ones who are talking about me. The ones who talk to me. The ones who I want to talk about more than anything else in the world.
I can’t break up with the facepage. I love her too much.
But I have GOT to rid myself of this narcissist. She’s such a nasty bully.
Take that, narcissist. I’m done with you.
*end note — Writing a long blog post all about myself saying that I am done making everything all about me… now that’s just comedy.