Facebook for the Haters {with Cocktails}

At two different times, my boyfriend’s dad has unknowingly referred to Facebook as Spacebook and as MyFace. If I ever need to laugh, I just call up the memories of him saying this. I love accidentally hilarious misnomers.

But for the past year or so, talk around the web about Facebook has been no laughing matter.

{Author’s Note: If you’re here for the cocktails, keep reading. They’re a little further on into this story.}

Photo by Stewart courtesy of Flickr Creative Commons

Facebook takes a lot of flak.

People grouse about Facebook’s loose-y goose-y privacy settings {I’ll admit, the frequency with which it shakes things up is annoying}. I even saw a Tweet this week that accused Facebook of being “patriarchal.” I see lots of whining in blog posts and on Twitter about how people just don’t get Facebook. {Yet they get Twitter?} Facebook haters say they have better conversation over on Twitter.

“Well,” — to quote Chris Farley’s “in a van down by the river” character from SNL‘s days of yore — “la dee friggin’ da!”

Today I’m taking a stand which I guess is, apparently, renegade in the world of social media.

I love Facebook.

And not because I discovered it way back when I was kid and have “grown up with it.” I did not. I’ve been on Facebook for only a couple years now, starting out with a personal page to connect with offline friends and family only, and adding on business pages first for my now-closed shop and later for Abby Kerr Ink.

I love Facebook because I’ve found genuine cameraderie and meaningful conversation there. To me, my interactions there feel more personal than on Twitter or LinkedIn. {Don’t get me wrong — I definitely dig Twitter. LinkedIn, I could take or leave.}

Reframing Facebook For the Haters {and the Wannabe Lovers}

I understand why you might be a Facebook hater. Or a JNGF-er {Just Not Getting Facebook}. {Yes, I said effer.} Facebook isn’t all that much fun when you’re just looking at it in a literal sense: as a cold, bland interface where you have to remember to remind people that you’re still here, and try to tempt them to do business with you without annoying them.

And it gets really repetitive when you’re just talking about selling your stuff all the time. Or trying to make meaningless small talk sound engaging and natural because you think that’s what you’re supposed to do with social media.

I use a fun metaphor to reframe Facebook for myself. Maybe this’ll work for you, too.

Every time I log onto Facebook, I imagine myself meeting face-to-face with the people who have already said yes to me. At the time I’m writing this post, that’s 162 people who have “opted in” to my Facebook page through the Like button. That means they have lent me their ear — or actually, a moment on their News Feed — and if I want to keep their attention and create a relationship that may lead to something even better for both of us, then I’d better make their interactions with me worthwhile.

So each time I go to make a Facebook Status Update, I pretend I’m leading a workshop on an area in which I have expertise. Somedays, the workshop is about copywriting, or indie retail, or the creatively entrepreneurial lifestyle, or naturally niche-y marketing. These are topics I love, am passionate about, and have good shareable experiences within. And I pretend that my Facebook page “likers” have chosen to join me for a workshop today on one of those topics. So every time I post something on Facebook, it’s as if I’m delivering a soundbite from the workshop.I’m teaching, not just talking. I’m looking for a way to connect what I want to share with my right people to an immediate need or an urgent desire of theirs. And I make sure that it’s something short, actionable, inspiring, and worth the time it takes to read and act on it.

Yes, I really pretend I’m leading a workshop when I update on Facebook. {You can giggle at me next time I post something.} It works for me. My imagination transforms a social media tool that can feel a little cold into something that feels totally personal and totally possible of inspiring life transformation with every update.

If that’s too corny for you, feel free to pass it by. But I have a feeling this will help someone.

Are you doing it wrong?

Only if you’re not enjoying it. And only if no one {or hardly anyone} is interacting with you. If you’re speaking in a way that resonates with your right people on topics they care about, they will respond. If they’re not responding, it might be because it sounds as if you’re updating for your own benefit, not theirs. But sometimes you have to ask them to respond. As in, what do you guys think? Or, anyone disagree with me? Or, feel free to share your favorite resource here.

What if my right people don’t get Facebook?

Educate them! Reframe Facebook for them. Don’t just say, “Find us on Facebook for updates.” Say, “Find us on Facebook for daily decorating tips and monthly contests” or “Connect with me on Facebook, where every day I give away one of my insider tips for rocking social media.” Give them an idea of what they’re missing if they don’t find you on Facebook. Be explicit. Appeal to your right people’s desire to be in the know, astute, savvy, and empowered. Don’t underestimate the “what’s in it for me?” factor. Give them something juicy that can help them improve their lives right now.

And at the end of the day, if you just can’t get them on Facebook, so be it.

Here come the cocktails.

Depending on your market, not all of your right people will be on Facebook or will want to be. That’s okay. No one should rely on any one social media network for all of their marketing efforts. After all, if you were throwing a little cocktail gathering along with this imaginary workshop, you wouldn’t just serve olives, would you? You’d put out some cheese and crackers, some stuffed mushrooms, maybe some prosciutto and melon. You’d pour some cocktails. {By the way, if you throw this gathering, please invite me. And make mine an Amaretto Sour.}

So keep giving those already in your Facebook following those imaginary workshop soundbites. And pass the prosciutto.