Making the [Least] of Social Media

Last week I attended a lecture on social media for photographers. This is my response:  

I love social events. 

There is something invigorating about a group of people with a common interest all joining together for a night of inspiration. 

I knew that APA’s little event was not Salesforce’s world famous conference, but on the evening going into “Modern Marketing for Photographers,” at Left Space Studios in the Mission, I had this excited feeling that my notes were going to help change my career, that I was going to leave with numerous contacts to exploit in the near future, and maybe even a free neon colored backpack stitched with an embarrassingly large logo.

After signing in and beautifully writing my name on an obnoxiously sized sticker (which I had a problem finding an attractive placing for on my shirt,) I walked into the darkly lit high-ceiling event room filled with socially awkward photographers in odd patterns and cargo pants. With my optimism still high, I made for the bar making eye contact with the gentleman opening a new bottle of red wine. Turning around, glass in hand, I faced my unknown new friends.

Usually, I am very good at sneaking my way into conversation, but my tricks failed me with these shy artists. Everyone stood lonely in their own clusters. Imaginary force fields keeping them tied to their iPhones and looking aimlessly at the empty white walls. A few brief exchanges of uncomfortable handshakes, a woman who gave me a free screen cleaner, and annoying name droppings from a man who tried to pick me up after the lecture with the line “hipster girls like you look good on the back of my bicycle,” was all the social excitement I received before they asked us to sit down. 

pre event bathroom selfie

I sat in the third row, first seat to the isle; not too close to be a geek, but close enough to express interest. 

A balding man took the mic, introduced himself, and made a joke about tequila that no one laughed at. Recently having watched a documentary on the founder of Apple, I sat eagerly hoping to be inspired with the same majestic feeling that Steve Jobs delivered with his sly smirk before a crowd of high waisted khaki wearing nerds. Sadly, my disappointment settled in heavily right about the time we hit slide three.

Nicely put, I wasted two hours, fifteen dollars, and three squirts of perfume last Tuesday evening. I walked out of the building with an empty notebook and an appreciation for one minute long “how to” YouTube videos that would give me the same amount of information in a shorter time and while wearing my pajamas. 

The slideshow was slow and the presenter read it word for word. 

Now I know I am no expert in the art of presentation, but what I do know is you have to be interesting. Your slides should be bullet points for your speech. If we wanted to read about the topic we would have picked up a book, but we wanted personality and elaboration on experiences, at least, that’s what I wanted. 

The facts on the slides were incorrect and gave a “do it my way or fail” vibe that put a panicked pursed lipped look on the mouth of the woman seated in front of me. The examples were not relevant and up to date on the changes in layouts and guidelines of most of the social media applications talked about. The questions asked at the end were responded with a “um..” or “well I don’t use that” response that left the presenter looking uneducated and rude and the questioner annoyed. I couldn’t wait for it to be over. And nearing the end, the only thing that kept me staying was the devilish hope of snagging a bottle of wine on my way out. 

I picked the lecture because I found the topic relevant and interesting, but was incredibly disappointed. Ultimately, Tuesday evening, I lost time, patience, knowledge, and a follower on Instagram.