If this were 1947, he’d be headed to the woodshed for a firm lesson in better manners.
Part of my morning routine, after making coffee, is to check the online newspaper, see who has emailed me and visit Facebook to see what my family has posted. I guess I have a feeling of entitlement because I have stepped into what Facebook has to offer. I’m re-thinking that idea.
For the last three days, I haven’t been able to access my Facebook page. I keep getting a message that says the site is down for maintenance and I should check back in a few minutes. Well, that few minutes has stretched into days, and I feel like a mother whose children have been playing at the neighbors and now I can’t find them.
That is my information, my photograph album, my personal messages from my family — and, yes, I am being territorial. As one born in 1947, I am thinking Cold War tactics have come into play here.
While searching frantically for a way to access my FB account (we savvy grandmothers use FB, short for Facebook, just like the kids), I found out that thousands, perhaps millions, have been having this problem.
I also found out FB is going to make a big announcement tomorrow about how they have redesigned their pages. They should have left well enough alone, in my opinion.
My very talented daughter, Carrie Lee, came to my rescue, finding out something had been checked or unchecked, and she fixed the problem. I’m happy again, until another computer glitch throws me a curve.
You can “bet your sweet bippie” (a late 1960s saying) that someone, somewhere, very soon, will create something like FB, and we’ll all switch, leaving it behind, just like MySpace seems to have been. (That’s another “social media” creation, somewhat like FB.)