I signed up for Facebook because every author I know is also on the site. Maybe they know something I don’t know…like thousands of people will see my profile, my witty weekly offering, and buy my books?
Nah. That didn’t happen. What did happen is that people I don’t know want to be my friend. And it’s not really because they want to be my friend, but of course they want to build their list. They want to see how many people they can line up to read their witty offerings. Or they want everyone to know that they went out for pizza last night. Or in one case, a lady wanted to garner sympathy for her cat that was going through a rough time after a fight with a racoon.
I don’t mean to sound like Andy Rooney, but I do find most of the time spent on Facebook tedious. And now, old ( and I do mean OLD) classmates have come out of the woodwork…ones I was never really friends with in the first place. And while it’s nice to see that they have a family, a dog, have been married three times and have found religion, it just seems that I should have better things to do.
I did get a message on Facebook the other day that really got me fired up. An uncle that I didn’t even remember passed away out in California. He left over $2,000,000 in his estate and there were only five blood relatives identified as heirs. I was one of them.
The attorney who handled the case apparently didn’t do a very good job. He contacted the wrong Don Bruns. But for a moment there, I was really liking Facebook.