Opinion – Page 3 – Cate Owen

October 7, 2012October 7, 2012

Do you make social media managers despair?

I’ve been talking to a lot of community managers of high-profile New Zealand companies, and there’s a trend to what they have been saying lately: They are getting worn out from trying to deal with unreasonably emotional people. People who say they are upset about changes to products they get for free, having a go at marketing campaigns for products they would never use, angry that a service isn’t 100% perfect.

It has been a hard couple of years in New Zealand. We’ve had Pike River, the hideous and ongoing situation in Canterbury, a really bad summer, the financial crisis, an election, and although we won it, the World Cup came at a cost. It’s no wonder we’re all a little short-tempered.

Adding to that, in general people have a burning desire to feel innocent; to feel not guilty for our actions. We justify horrible behaviour by saying we are righting a wrong, fighting injustice, protecting others. We convince ourselves that tweeting or Facebooking our thoughts, no matter how rude, is justifiable.

There’s also the commonly-used argument that you shouldn’t be in the public arena if you can’t handle a bit of fire. That’s an okay point, until you start using it to justify swearing at company employees, constantly slagging off celebrities, or hacking websites.

It’s never okay to wish a company’s employees would get breast cancer so they would know suffering. It’s never okay to tell anyone that you want them to commit suicide. It’s never okay to say a product is so terrible it makes you want to kill yourself. It’s never okay to post images of aborted foetuses to a Facebook page, saying you wish this had happened to the product’s makers.

Believe it or not, these are real examples of recent New Zealand abuse on high-profile Facebook pages.

You can, however, have a bad experience and take to social media to offer constructive feedback in an adult manner. I believe that this kind of feedback is welcomed, as it’s incredibly helpful, doesn’t make the community manager think you’re a knob end, and can be presented verbatim to decision-makers for resolution.

Just take a minute and ask yourself if you are being a jerk, but justifying it and absolving yourself with lame excuses.

We’ve had a hard go of it lately, but here’s a way we can start to make the world a tiny bit nicer.

May 12, 2012May 12, 2012

Top 40 hits that make me facepalm

It’s always amusing – and facepalmy – when a song with stupid lyrics makes it to the Top 40.

What’s worse is when the lyrics are in equal parts stupid and disrespectful. It’s as if the lyricists don’t have two braincells to rub together.

What if we swapped the genders – make the women the singers and the men featured in the lyrics – would we see them for what they really are? Here’s a sample of upended lyrics from some fine tunes that hit the top of the charts this year – that’s 2012, not 1962.

Whistle – by Flo Rida
I’m betting you love creep mode, and I’m betting you like boys that give love to boys, and stroke your little ego

The moral: Men like boys that give love to boys. It strokes their egos, hard.

Turn All The Lights On – by T Pain
This must be his song, dancing like ain’t nobody else in here, Sexy as he wanna be and he dancing so close to me. I said ‘please excuse you steppin’ on expensive shoes’. He is a perfect ten, this angelic body made you sin. I love the way you get it in, come over here and shake it for a lady – cause you want it

The moral: It turns out men actually really WANT to dance in front of leering women! And true ladies want men to “shake it”. Just mind my shoes, pet. They be pricey.

Sorry For Party Rocking – LMFAO
When I’m in the club, sippin bub, really drunk, and I see a guys ass, gotta have it. I’ma grab it.

The moral: If you’re drunk, just grab some random ass. No one minds.

International Love – Pitbull
I’ve been to countries and cities I can’t pronounce, and places on the globe I didn’t know existed. In Romania, he pulled me to the side and told me “Pit, you can have me, and my brother.”

The moral: Pitbull should have stayed in school, and these lyrics are actually fucking creepy… Even when the genders aren’t reversed.

The Motto – Drake
Some Spanish boys love me like I’m on Aventura… Clubbing hard, fucking men, ain’t much to do.

The moral: When bored, get busy. It makes you look cool.

Leave You Alone – Young Jeezy
[Dear boyfriend:] keep your stomach, inner thighs, and your legs right, while I’m out here focus getting this bread right.

The moral: Women won’t support a man with a beer gut. Get it sorted, guys.

I’m actually sick of this stuff. It’s awful. Why do we buy into it, and let it lace itself into our culture?!

To finish, I’ll paraphrase the worst of them all: Faded, by Tyga and Lil Wayne. These men are class and I hope their families are proud.

Women are dogs, so sexual partners get the nickname “Lassie”.
During sex, put your thumb in a woman’s anus, and then make her smell it, in the hopes that she vomits.
“Pregnant bitch titties” are bad because you can milk them.
Have sex with a woman while playing your own music, then break “a bitch heart” once you’re done.

Stay classy, gentlemen.

May 11, 2012May 11, 2012

Things a Twitter addict learned while on holiday

This holiday, I went on a social media fast. No Twitter. No Facebook. I wasn’t allowing myself to see anything remotely work-related. I was having a Proper Break.

Sounded good in theory, but I didn’t realise just how much I used Twitter to keep up with news, and find alternative perspectives from the ones in my head, in the paper, or on the TV.

I’ll cheerfully admit, I’m sometimes a Twitter troll*. I’ll make a big, bold, topical statement, and then watch for fireworks. It’s interesting, the reactions you get: From the earnest to the angry, people on either side of the coin will either call you out or triumph their hurrahs!

Luckily, there’s truth mixed in there somewhere. The answer is never black-or-white, and opinion trolling – although must be used with caution – usually starts a fantastic discussion where we can all learn something, gain perspective, or feel grounded.

Another thing I didn’t do this week was share stuff I was reading or watching to Facebook or Twitter. It made me feel very disconnected – it turns out I’ve been using Twitter almost as a bookmark: A place where I can go back later, find the link, and share again. Not to mention the enjoyment my friends get from the good oil. I didn’t get to read their comments. I didn’t get to see what they were sharing.

No, this week, I haven’t been on Twitter. I haven’t seen the 140-character vox pops of people’s take on news and current affairs. I haven’t seen the trending topics. I had FOMO. It makes me feel out of touch, and I don’t like feeling out of touch.

The flip side is, I didn’t facepalm. Not once.

During my holiday, I never felt misunderstood (a misunderstood sometimes-troll? Who would have thought!). I didn’t get frustrated. I didn’t have to adopt the fetal position at all! I didn’t feel scrutinised – that at any moment something I tweet may get twisted and end up in the paper. No stress that a tweet – oopsie! – could come from an account it shouldn’t have. I did not see any of the mob-mentality, angry, angry tweets about something that doesn’t even matter in the scheme of things. I know, I know. Us “professionals” are supposed to wax lyrical about how we’re all amazingly thick skinned, and you shouldn’t be working near flames if you can’t handle heat etc. Wah, wah, wah. But let me tell you: This week, muting Twitter was bliss.

Well, it was very nearly bliss.

I missed seeing my friend’s streams of consciousness. I did miss taking advantage of “anyone free for a drink” tweets. I missed the warm humour and the pithy one liners. I missed knowing the news when it happened. I missed BexieLady’s amusing pregnant oversharer tweets and TroyRFs ragey bus tweets.

It’s tweets like these that make Twitter what it is

It was also hard to not share my own random thoughts – having a really funny untweeted thought was almost like putting a note in a bottle and then never releasing it to the ocean to see what will happen.

Gawd, I did just write that.

Oh the things I could have tweeted! There was the half-hour phone call with my older brother, explaining why he couldn’t just use his first name as his Skype login, and then working out that he didn’t have an internet connection in first place. That would have been awesome to live tweet. There was the time ~~my flatmate~~ a random person I was hanging out with, upon seeing a happy child skipping along the street remarked, “bet that’s a weird little kid… I mean, ‘unique’ little kid. Whatever we’re supposed to call it these days.”

So Tweet-worthy.

But I digress.

The NZ Twitter crowd really is one big whanau. There’s the younger siblings, who bring us Bieber and Gaga and Shore Girls news. There’s the mums who make sure we’re all doing okay and eating our veges. There’s the angry uncles getting drunk and arguing the Demise Of Everything in the corner. There’s the older sisters who say “fuck it” and wear leopard print jeans with tie-died hoodies even though they look a bit mad. There’s the grandparents who are mostly graceful and amazing but turn out to be batshit crazy enough to hang out with the rest of us.

I missed you, tweeple.

*Trolling. Not to make people uncomfortable, or to show a company what a dick I am, but just to get people talking. And thinking, hopefully.

February 22, 2012February 22, 2012

Words for a memorial: We will get through

A year ago today I wrote:

Words just seem so futile at a time like this. The entire dictionary – even every word ever uttered – can’t describe what’s going on right now.

A nation sits in shock. This isn’t our burden, surely? This isn’t our event? This is what happens in some foreign land, some distant place, to people who aren’t us.

But no, this is our place. This is our event. This is our land.

As a mother hen gathers her chicks in close, so New Zealand gathers its people together. We stand shoulder-to-shoulder with those who have lost everything. We protect those who are weakened. We guard those we have lost.

Nightfall is coming. The rescuers will continue to search, and we will continue to hope. ‘Recovery’ is a word still far too raw to be uttered. Until we have our people back, we will hold fast.

We will get through this.

As I look back on what happened, I can’t help but admire the people of Canterbury. Those who worked selflessly for others. Those who ignored frayed nerves and kept on. Those who had everything taken away – everything but their smiles. Those who made the brave decision to stay. Those who made the brave decision to leave.

I don’t think I’d be overstating the case to say that New Zealand changed as a nation that day. We all took a knock on some level – even those of us who didn’t feel the quakes with our bodies still felt it in our hearts.

We watched on, desperate to help, wanting Cantabrians to know how much we cared. We longed to make things right, but couldn’t really do anything. And as the quakes kept coming, we despaired with those who continued to suffer.

They say these things make you stronger. I agree, but what a fucking painful growth spurt. Almost one you don’t come back from; one you maybe don’t get through in one piece.

But the people of Canterbury did get through it. They will continue to get through it.

And we will all continue to stand with them.

Kia kaha, New Zealand.

November 28, 2011April 13, 2013

The Postsecret and the Swamp

Reading the weekly Postsecret offerings is a bit of a ritual in my world. As I think about each one – sometimes in passing, sometimes at length – I often see reflections of myself.

I found one particularly touching:

As I read it, I felt really sad.

I lived in a swamp for a long time. I had an overwhelming feeling that it was my destiny, that the hard drudgery is what life is… That to escape from such a place requires a miracle not offered to those in the depths.

I think many people have felt the same way.

If you’re in that place – where the path out of the swamp feels too hard – don’t give up. Life is not all roses and sunshine like we often expect it to be. Life is hard work, it can be rough as guts, and it can hurt. But there’s a very important thing you need to know: The swamp – the place you were born into or now find yourself – is not a reflection on how precious and important you are.

Because you are so very precious, and do not deserve to live your life hidden away in a dark place.

So what can you do about it?

It’s time to start walking out of the swamp. Today. Right now. Change a mindset, change a habit. Stop talking down to yourself. Reach out to someone who can help you. Whatever your swamp is, now is the time to look towards something new.

It’s going to hurt, because hope hurts the heart that’s not used to it, but, trust me, even though the pain and scariness of change may be greater than the pain of living where you are right now, it’s worth it.

Think of it this way: You get a nasty infection in your elbow, which causes it to seize up. You’re not having any joy moving the joint, and you can’t carry much weight on it, but it’s functional. It doesn’t really matter that you can’t do everything, does it? Then a doctor takes a look at your elbow and suggests that cleaning out the infection will fully heal you. You agree to the treatment, and the doctor starts work.

It hurts. It fucking hurts.

You have a choice. You can persevere, or you can give up. You can fight through, or you can succumb.

Hand on heart, from someone who has walked the path out of the swamp – out of multiple swamps – it’s worth the fight. Don’t ever let the pain of healing rob you of your future.

Because what a future you can have.

This was a Postsecret that reminded me of how far I’ve come, and hopefully, it’ll inspire those who read this and need to hear it – you matter, your life matters, and it will get better.

Be brave.

October 9, 2011April 26, 2012

We are like trees

If you’ve ever studied a tree stump you’ll know all about the rings. Looking over them is like caressing a lifetime. You can see exactly how different events in the tree’s life affected it. The grafting, the pruning, the good years, and the bad years – they are all right there in those rings. The events are so woven into the tree that they shape it and give it character.

In many ways, you and I are like trees. We are shaped by the events around us – the good and the bad. But unlike trees we have a choice about what we prune.

Maybe you are an emotional spender. Maybe you jump from relationship to relationship. Perhaps you feel jealous when others succeed. Whatever it is, it’s costing you peace and wellbeing – and possibly some friends too.

There is a model that’s really helped me clear out some of the emotional junk hanging around my life: Face, trace, replace.

Face the fact that you’ve got a problem. This might sound easy, but sometimes self-awareness is one of the hardest things to learn. Don’t let shame stop you – face up to your issues and the underlying feeling, be it jealousy, anger, sadness – acknowledge it. Get to know what triggers it.

Trace the problem to its root. The inappropriate emotion you’re feeling harks back to something earlier – where did it start? How did it start? What lies did you learn at that time – “I’m not good enough”, “I’m ugly”, “I don’t matter”, “No one listens to me” are examples.

Replace the lies with truth. Whatever you told yourself that caused you to go off on this understandable tangent, replace it with honesty. “She really didn’t mean to overlook me, it was a mistake. She loves me”; “I am beautiful, even if he didn’t say it. He probably didn’t know how to say it”; “I really do matter. They were just rude and horrible and I don’t have to believe what they said”… see what I mean?

I’m not a counsellor. I’m just telling you, from a person that’s struggled, that this worked for me. Yes, it took a long time. No, I’m not perfectly healed… But this is a big step in the right direction.

So next time you see a tree stump, stop to admire the rings… and know that you have a choice.

October 6, 2011November 28, 2011

Baggage

The thing about baggage is that it falls into one of two categories: You’re carrying it because you’re going somewhere, or because you’ve been somewhere.

If you’re like me, carrying baggage because you’re off somewhere is great. Your suitcase is tidy, full of clean clothes and extra space, ready for all those little nick-nacks and pressies you’re thinking of bringing back. You’re off into the unknown and it’s exciting and perhaps a little scary.

If you’re carrying it because you just got back, then those bags are going to be heavy, full of laundry and random crap, and you’ll be tired from the trip. So what do you do when you get home? You have a rest, then you unpack. Maybe a couple days later, but you will unpack.

At the very least you’ll put the suitcase down, right? So why don’t we do that, emotionally speaking?

You came from somewhere, having collected a heavy load of stuff – some helpful, some not. And years later you haven’t unpacked it all. It’s all still sitting in baggage that you’re dragging around your day-to-day life. Perhaps you figure it’s easier to ignore it, pretend it’s meant to be there, that it’s really a part of you now. Maybe you don’t know who you are without it.

I don’t know your story. But mine has caused many, many suitcases full of crap to gather around me. I’d sit on them, use them as a fort, use them as a reason to not do something.

But there comes a time in life where, to move on and be ready for the next adventure, you really need an empty suitcase and a spare hand to hold it with.

What suitcases from journeys long passed are you still refusing to put down?

September 11, 2011March 18, 2012

Kiwis share September 11 experiences

Casually asking Twitter anything is a dangerous sport – none moreso than when discussing the September 11 terror attacks.

Without ado, or too much editing, here are the responses I recieved when I asked Twitter users where they were when they heard the news.

Some woke up directly to the news
LittleIchiban I’d fallen asleep with the TV on so I woke up at 5am to it being broadcast, thought I was having some crazy dream
Margie186 Woke up to messages from US friends and didn’t grasp the enormity and horror at first.
jinnee79 I woke up from a nightmare about a plane crash in Sydney. Turns out it was the news on my clock radio alarm
splatdevil My dad came in to my room, waking me up, telling me they had collapsed. We then watched the coverage and talked of nothing else.
amandimoo At home. Hubby was doing late shift, woke wondering why he hadn’t come to bed in time to see the 2nd plane hit. Glued to TV from then
nicki_nz Woke up to the news on the radio. Grabbed my kids and made them watch it, realising it was one of those life moments.
PaMelville Alarm clock went off with Kim & Corbett sober and quiet. TV went on. Boom. Spent day doing corporate massage to very tearful people.
rmccarten Woke up to news blaring on radio. Husband said in dazed state “woah, this is massive”. Watched tv coverage before and after work
alliekatnz woke up at the exact time the first tower collapsed and looked and the clock wondering why was I awake. I turned on the radio…

Many were disbelieving
ogamu I was chatting to a friend in NYC on MSN when the first plane hit. She ran to her window and was like OMG the WTC is on fire!
brenasmith I had just got my PC working with a tuner card, couldn’t believe what was on, ended up with TV and PC running just to be sure.
AliCopeman Got up early for breakfast out with colleagues. CC turned on TV One Breakfast and let out a stream of expletives
Al_2c 10 years ago I was working with two Americans whom I love dearly as we watched the horrors of 9-11 unfold!
duncn I watched it live on tv. Saw the second plane hit. Absolutely chilling. We didn’t know what was going to happen next. Very scary.
bookemdanno At work, following online and on TV. Numb, in shock, and dimly aware that we were watching the world change. Scared.
brentrobinsonz I was working at DSE, heard snippets on the train into work, sat in front of a computer watching a low quality stream of CNN
Guinea6 I just got back from a run up One Tree Hill. Sunk into the couch speechless ’til the flatties woke up 🙁 Seems like yesterday

Others were left with plans hanging
chrisjquin In Rotorua after our sales conference, was due to fly to San Fran on the 11th our time… Never left on that trip for 3 months

For one, it was a birthday they’d rather forget
NanaJ9 Waking up, it’s my birthday and I get a text “Happy Birthday, by the way New York is being bombed”

Some were expecting new life
WendyWings Asleep and nine months pregnant, my husband called and told me to turn on the TV
karenhurley Me too…
allstarangel I was 9 months pregnant too! Son turns 10 next Sunday. Mother in law woke me up at 6am and turned on tv. There is a photo of me in labour reading a paper with Osama on the front page
Kiwi_Chatter Lauren was pregnant too.
kittengloves I feared for our unborn child’s life. Thought the world was ending
MrReasonable Hospital waiting room with very pregnant MrsR. Office phoned me to get in as there was panic in the markets. I stayed with MrsR.

Some had wee children to explain it to
tellywriter The teens (then 3 & 5) came in to say there were no cartoons on TV, just news. I said they had the wrong channel. But they didn’t.
sarabeee I had to act normal and cheerily feed Timbee in his highchair, not quite 13 months.
TelcoKT A friend was at home with her newborn (8 days old), feeding her and wondering what world she’d brought a child into…

… And some were just young themselves
Edaemus I was eleven years old and in bed. I remember lying there watching it on my little TV, completely baffled. Surreal memories.
KrystleF I was in 5th form, had just woken up, heard it on the radio & ran to the TV, it was all we talked about at school that day
br0kenbutterfly Was home sick from Year 6 at school, thought it was WW3. Then our schoolwork was based around it for ages.
akianz I was home, my parents woke us up and we watched the news in horror until we had to go to school.
tinopai I was 8 years old getting ready for school. The most memorable morning of my young life. Just shocking.
lilyandalma I ran and woke my parents up and we watched the whole night- after them telling me off for being up so late on a school night.
KirstiGrant Was at boarding school, had business studies 1st period. I remember the teacher attempting to incorporate it into the lesson.

Some were overseas
genebrarian I was in London. My (English) husband received confirmation of his New Zealand residency on the same day. *Sigh of relief*
TophHooperton I was watching Neighbours. The news interrupted it and I sat in that spot watching it go down all day. Seemed like a dream.
TelcoKT In the UK. Financing trucks. Watching it unfold at work. Freaky.
g33kytweet I was in Westlock Alberta Canada, just about to head off for a shopping road trip to Edmonton with a friend.
muffinmum Our stuff had been shipped to NZ the day before, a place we had never been. Was at one of last days of work at special needs school
ClaireLHuxley I was in Newcastle, UK. Working from home (waiting for our useless disappearing builder) the whole day watched in shock. We’d already decided to move here, that just cemented the decision.
kathadu At an internet cafe in Marrakech, reading an email from a London-based friend
Keri_little I was in a job interview at bank UK, came out of the room into open office of 300 peeps, everyone in groups in tears. I was So confused
NZ_judester It was my first ever week of teaching in Hexham, UK. Colleague came in, told us and we all rushed to library to watch the tv.

… Including in the USA
corinnespleen Living in the states… Spent the whole day watching the coverage – emotional day.
SoniaLee At work trying to locate my big brother who was in NY city that day for their first antenatal check up, he emailed me to say they were ok
kiwifrenzy Sitting on the end of the bed at Circus Circus, Las Vegas, getting ready to go to the Grand Canyon, and watched the 2nd plane crash on TV
honorarykiwi I grew up in Pennsylvania. People started getting called down to the office – being picked up. Announcement made around lunchtime. We were brought up believing we lived in an infallible, invincible country. One day, and entire world view shattered. Eye opening.
leahisaninja In LA, about to book a ticket to NY. Eep!

Some were freshly home
2covet I was back in my NZ bed after having been standing on top of the South Tower & visiting the Pentagon just a few weeks prior.
kennewell I had returned from the USA the night before. Heard on the way to work. We all sat and watched tv at work. 40 of us. In awe.

September 11 seems to be one of those moments – you know where you were at the time because it was history-defining. You knew you were experiencing a moment that would make it to the history books.

Maybe it affected New Zealanders so deeply because we felt connected to America in ways we didn’t with the ‘stan nations – countries where things like this happen with horrifying frequency. Maybe it was because many of us had been there, or seen it in the movies, or on a playon on Friends. Maybe it was because it was televised. Maybe it was because it was so relatable, had such an impact on the way we travelled, or the subsequent war we entered into.

Feel free to leave your memories as a comment on this blog.

July 10, 2011July 10, 2011

Walking a mile might save a friendship

There’s an old saying: Don’t judge till you’ve walked a mile in someone else’s shoes.

It’s true. And we often forget it.

Today I spent a little bit of time with a friend who is in a rough place. Her work, home, and love life aren’t quite going to plan, and she’s struggling to stay positive.

And because of her general lack of cheer and smiley-facedness, she’s being judged harshly.

Rather than people saying “Oh, you’re having a hard time right now, I’ll show you a bit of grace,” they’re calling her out on it, adding to the pressure she’s feeling to stay in control, and suppress the bad feelings.

I can relate.

I felt I started the race ten paces behind everyone else, due to my more unusual upbringing. The anxiety I felt to cover up my “deficiencies” – as well as perform to an above-average standard – would build up and cause some terrible hurt.

It is really easy to sit on the peripherals of someone else’s life and call them out on all the mistakes we think they make. They’re not as nice as they should be. Not as patient. Not as tight-lipped or rational as we say they should be.

But little do we know what they’ve overcome – or are currently dealing with – just to be where they are right now.

Think of it this way: Identical twins are wearing backpacks. From the outside, the packs – and the muscles holding them up – look the same. But it’s not till you lift the packs yourself that you realise one weighs 20kgs more than the other. You’re not going to begrudge the twin wearing the heavier backpack the occasional complaint, are you?

How about this situation: A car accident happens, and one person is able to shrug it off, whereas another isn’t. Should they judge each other for their reactions? No. Perhaps the person who is able to shrug it off has had several accidents before, and this is minor in their scheme of reference… But for the other person, it’s a Big Deal. Neither is right – or wrong – just different.

It’s so easy for us to judge another on their reaction to something, but our ability to cope with things is dependent on many factors.

Communication. It is the glue that holds relationships together. If you’re struggling to cope, one of the best and bravest things you can do is reach out and tell someone what’s going on. Explain to your family, friends and workmates that you’ve got a lot on your plate, and ask for grace. Confide in someone you trust, and seek professional help if you need it.

There is no shame in admitting you don’t have it all sorted. You aren’t the first and you won’t be the last.

And if you’re on the other side of the fence, try to not judge someone because they react differently than you would. You never know how many miles they’ve walked just getting to where you already are.