THE FIFTH COLUMN
Yes, it finally happened: the whole world ditched Facebook and it’s just me and Mark Zuckerberg left.
Why did I stay, you ask? Well, if Zuckerberg accepts your friend request, you don’t leave. (To be honest though, he sent me a request. I accepted right away.)
Ever since the exodus, my timeline has been very quiet. The last kitten floated by about a week ago, the last baby pic a week before that. The advertisers are still there — those selfish bastards will stop at nothing to sell you something — and, with just one person to mine, they’ve really homed in on my personality.
Apparently, there’s a shop assistant in a clothing store across town who is just as shy as I am, and is said never to approach anyone no matter how long they’ve been in the store. Likes Radiohead and Leonard Cohen, just like me.
I’ve visited the store. It was great.
It’s the first time the advertisers proved somewhat useful. If they keep it up, I might give them my personal information for free, which would spare them the trouble of wheeling and dealing with Zuck, which could clear his name and restore Facebook to its former glory. But that ship has sailed and I’m worried about my friend’s headspace. His posts have become more desperate of late, talking about the search for meaning and purpose and, most alarmingly, a new job.
I like all his posts (I’ve never liked so many things before in my life!) and I post comments now and then, which he likes in return.
I’ve never been much of a Facebook poster, but have taken to sharing a helpful article or two. According to The New York Times, very few leaders in Silicon Valley have spoken up about data-mining because they all use it to sell their services. I thought that was encouraging. How wrong could it be if everyone does it?
I also found an article showing Zuck with no sweat on his face, which I shared immediately.
He hasn’t liked my post yet but I’ve let it slide on account that he probably has a lot on his plate right now. Then again, how hard is it to check your phone every now and then? It’s just me on here — that post must have sat at the top of his timeline for a full day now. It’s a great post. Shows him wearing a suit and tie for once. What’s not to like?
I’ll give it another hour and then, I don’t know, I might delete my account. Yes, I said it. I mean, you try to help someone — try to lend a helping hand — and this is the thanks you get?
One hour and I’m out of here. Sayonara, finito, goodbye. In fact, let me do it right now. What’s keeping me, right? “Edit profile”. No. “Settings”. Unbelievably, also no.
Aha! “How can we help?” How do I permanently delete my account? “If you want to delete your account, click here.” Click. “Still sure you want to delete your account?”