Your Life, My Thoughts

Coping With The Loss of a “Friend”

Q. What is the appropriate response when you discover that you have been “de-friended” from a social media network?  I’m not talking about random people from my dorm floor — but former close friends or family members.  I’m not an over-poster, so these people are trying to send me a ”message,” right?  It’s happened on two occasions and it is driving me crazy.

A. The appropriate responses are shock and disbelief. Followed by denial, righteous indignation, guilt, depression, and finally, acceptance. Once you’ve hit that last stage of grief and have moved past your paranoid idea that they’re sending you a “message,” you’ll be able to process the idea that what seems like an unfathomable affront to you, may have been a casual de-friending for them.  

Let’s be honest, how long did it even take you realize that you had fewer friends, and then to figure out who had gone missing? You probably spent more time tracking down the former friends than you did communicating with them in the past month. People grow apart in real life, so it’s reasonable to expect the same thing to happen online. Sure one of them might be family, but you’re only obligated to love family, not like them. Clearly these were not particularly that great of “friends,” so cut your losses, and enjoy the fact that you no longer have to go through the motion of “liking” their excessive vacation photos and self-agrandizing updates. 

Dial P for Paranoia

Q. Recently, my phone was stolen. I know that it was stolen (and not just lost) because whoever has it is using it heavily — using my email address to send YouTube videos, changing my Pandora stations on an almost hourly basis, etc. Of course I’ve changed my passwords to everything, and discontinued phone service, but the dude keeps using it. In case you’re curious, my phone, in the hand of its new owner, is particularly interested in Rick Ross and Haile Selassie.

So here’s the issue: Obviously I kept all of my contacts (read: YOU) in the address book, and everyone’s Facebook picture is automatically added to the address book. That, on top of all of the photos I have in my photo album, means that Phone Thief has hundreds of pictures of my friends and family. Which sucks.

Besides the vigilante justice I am planning, do I have an obligation to everyone whose name, face, and number I’ve unintentionally surrendered to a petty criminal? Do I need to tell everyone? Bake them cookies?

-Jocelyn

A. Silly goose, of course you should bake me cookies (specifically these), but that should be out of appreciation for my sharp wit and even sharper cheekbones. 

As for an ethical obligation to notify your inner circle that some of their personal information has been shared with a third party, I have to reluctantly inform you that yes, you probably should fulfill that duty (in as calm and non-panic inducing a manner as possible). But don’t sweat it. Facebook has already started giving that data to dozens of other strangers, so what’s one more?

Why should I, or any of your other friends, get in a tizzy over some delinquent being able to link names with faces and phone numbers when the semi-strangers I’ve Facebook befriended will soon be aware of the multitude of Yahoo! articles and videos I’ve viewed? (Well not really. This isn’t 2002, I don’t use Yahoo! anymore.) Third-party websites and advertisers can be of far greater nuisance with the stats we voluntarily share than any nefarious plot your Phone Thief can muster with what little scraps of info he or she has stolen.

Big Brother is already watching and his name is Mark Zuckerberg.

A desk jockey and a receptionist?  I only take real questions lady, not season one plot lines from The Office.  But who am I kidding, I’m new at this so I’ll take any query I can get. 

Moving on. You both work at the same company and you know his first name? Honestly, that’s enough material to track down his social security number. (Seriously, I’ve worked in HR). Short of that, you should be able to find his Facebook page, or at least a stagnant Friendster profile.  

While online stalking isn’t the healthiest first step toward a relationship, per se, it is a useful tool that lets you skip some of the awkwardness of face-to-face small talk. To quote the classic soul/funk track Computer Love by Zapp - “I no longer need astrology / thanks to modern technology.” Avail yourself of such resources and you’ll be in a good position to work your way up to an office hook-up. 

Yes, office hook-ups are acceptable (so long as neither party is a direct subordinate of the other).  

Worst case scenario: you go on a date, realize you have no spark, things are awkward at the office for a bit, and before long everyone’s forgotten about it.  Though not the ideal conclusion, you will have reached a resolution.  

Best case scenario: you use the confidence you’ve gained from your online rapport to tactfully invite him (in person) to join you at an off-site work event or a happy hour. It goes well, you start pairing off, and soon those office bitches will be jealous you’re dating Pam the hot receptionist.  Win-win either way.