The other night I sat down to watch an American classic: Hot Tub Time Machine. Whatever the overall opinion history will give to this masterpiece of cinema, one scene stood out that rang true to the state of our nation, if not the future of the world. One of our heroes, a modern teenager thrust into the stone age that was the 1980s, meets a girl in a bar. He asks her for her text number, if she's online. She looks at him like he is the broken man-child that he is and tells him that she does not know what he is talking about. He asks how he is supposed to get in touch with her. She says, "You come find me..."
I think she's in there somewhere....
Now I like this movie, but it is stupid cannon fodder of a comedy with the exception of this scene. As I sit, blogging, I think back on all the times I had to track a girl down, wait to see if she would show at a lame party, or hope she would walk by where I worked this Thursday cause she did last Thursday. I will freely admit I was the kid that held out on getting a cell phone until he was 24 because I did not want to be that easy to get in touch with. But that limited my options as well as boosted my creativity. I was forced to track people across town or go to that random bar not because Suzy Wannamaker texted me to be there, but because I thought she said that she liked the place. It was all about the hunt and the adventure.
How am I gonna tie this to libraries? Hit the jump to find out.
Libraries are no longer facing the same issues I faced with Miss Wannamaker. We do not have to go out into the community to hang fliers, march in their parades or hawk our new database/book finder/OPAC/monkey training Iphone app. The cash spent on newspaper ads for the spring book sale and harvest festival is saved as we go on our website, type a few keys and BOOM! Those that visit will see it bright and clear, possibly with a 10 year old dancing book gif.
Libraries should be dominating the social network machines. As a profession we are geared to produce the fuel that runs these bloated monstrosities: content. Events, pictures, book recommendations, cute videos of librarian drill teams, we got it all folks. Here are some ways you can spice up your libraries various social network pages:
I could spend an entire post teaching all the stuff you could add to a Facebook profile. Despite my hate for some peoples utter dependence on this service, it does offer so many diverse types of input that exploration is infinite. Here's a few I have found: posting links to various catalog searches or items; pictures of featured events and items; book reviews; discussion boards for books so you do not have to run a book club; cute poems about your cat; just post a lot of stuff at least once a day, no more than 5 times a day. I do not know why, but the Facebook crowd is fickle and will drop you if you post too little or too much.
Plus, the Library's mom could be on Facebook.
The best thing you can do for Twitter is link it to your Facebook. Like Facebook, posting too much or too little will lose you followers as your content clogs up their inbox feed thingie so they can not hear about there Aunt Edna's newest taco that looks like Jesus or that Ashton Kutner fella. Some things to add to Twitter are: comments on a book you read; links to your catalog; event postings; pics of monkey doin it; again, whatever.
He's winking because he Facebooked your mom.
Myspace
Let's be honest, Myspace is for teenagers, pervs, and bands singing about teenage pervs. There may also be some out of touch businesses. Just say no.
This guy's Myspace name is LadyGagaLuver69
Friendster
If you use Friendster, I pity you. You have forgotten the name of your father. Seriously, just tell your library staff that your computers are run by mice on treadmills while on fire chased by rabid wolverines.
I don't have a picture of the mice-treadmill-wolverine thing, so here's a puppy.
Things like texting, IM, and random book reading social sites. These may cost you some money and social status, but have fun with it and see what you can find. The Internet's a big place so spread your metaphorical library wings, toss yourself off a metaphorical Internet cliff, and plunge into the metaphorical social ocean to eat the fish of patron satisfaction. Or something. Just have fun with it and remember: for the first six months, nobody will follow you anyway.
Oh, and what was the modern kid's reaction to the beautiful 80s chick telling him he has to find her? "That sounds exhausting." Indeed, modern kid. But it is worth it.





