First off, apologies to those who have already viewed this YouTube video where marketing's Master Yoda (a.k.a. Seth Godin) responds to a question about the value of social networking in business. The takeaway sound byte:
The internet is this giant cocktail party, with all these people swarming around connecting much as they can because they're keeping score: "Who likes me today?" "Who's talking about me today?" But one day when you need to ask them to authorize a $100,000 contract, it doesn't matter. What matters is: Where are the real relationships?
I've been turning that metaphor--social media as a cocktail party--over in my head earlier today. The thing is, I can't even remember being to a bona-fide "cocktail party," ever. If I eventually do attend one, I'm liable to be disappointed, thanks to my co-workers. Because sometime in late 2005, The Teasing That Would Not Die led to an upping of the ante that has become the tradition of the Liquid Potluck. Which is as close as I've come to the cocktail party ritual that was part of the mysterious grown-up world when I was a squirt in the '70s.
And to me, the Liquid Potluck seems more to the point than cocktail party, mainly because the "liquid" part is sort of a misnomer. Sure, the wine/beer/etc. has pride of place--that was originally the point of the joke, after all. But (come to think of it) I still need to snag the recipe for the artichoke/spinach dip that C. brought. Then, too, M's girlfriend has a standing invitation--and it's because we like her. Honestly! Although the taco dip she brings tends to vanish pretty quickly. Certainly, no one objected to being a guinea pig for J's salsa recipe. And it's fun to see people's eyes light up (and the 'fridge mysteriously fill with refreshment over the lunch hour) after the crockpot of artery-clogging Lil' Smokies is fired up around 11 in the morning. Ditto seeing how adventurous some taste-buds can be, even with oddities like pickled garlic.
Initially, there were a few kinks to work out, namely the folks who didn't grasp that this was a true "potluck," rather than an on-the-house treat. And a few potlucks have been co-opted for other purposes. Oh yes--and some attempt was made to regularize the scheduling once upon a time. But, ultimately, they just happen. When they do, you can sometimes learn things that you never would have guessed about people you thought you knew. And you also learn things that you wouldn't have thought to ask about in the first place.
All of which sounds awfully like social media, at least as I've experienced it. Yes, there will always be folks who expect to consume more than they contribute. On the flip-side, the medium lends itself to the tendency to "overshare," certainly. Clicques coalesce, break up, and re-align in the not-quite-predictable patterns of a kaleidoscope. When the Important People put in an appearance, the dynamic changes...albeit not as much as it should. There have been a few times when someone's missed the bus back to The Real World. In other cases, people who would have much to give and gain from the swirl of chatter choose to stay away.
It's not that the original cocktail party metaphor isn't apt; I just don't run in the same circles as oracles of marketing--that's all. I've spent my life in the Upper Midwest with extensive family on both sides (and that before marrying someone with a similar abundance of cousins), so the "potluck" meme just feels more natural.
