Communications Calling: How did I get here? A moment of reflection in the carpal tunnel.
Chapter 1. This is not what I signed up for.
Before you freak out, no, I’m not having a 33.3333333 life crisis. At least, I think I’m not, but I can’t quite be sure just yet. I’m talking about Carpal Tunnel Syndrome, apparently it’s a thing and I currently have it. Well, I have it in that self-diagnosed way; when you tell a friend you have this symptom and they suggest it might be this thing and so you Google it — and now life as you’ve known it, is over. Well, it simply must be?
Here’s the thing; this subtle little injury, if you like, has been ebbing and flowing for about three months now and I haven’t told anyone because I’m embarrassed that I have it, that it’ll make people think, you know… I’m a social media addict. But really, I’m not actually an addict as far as social media goes — consuming thought-provoking digital content, maybe. But consumed with what everyone else is doing and saying and over-sharing? Not so much.
However, Social Media’ing is my job, as in, I have to be cruising the channels on the regular because that’s just what you do these days when you work in communications — long gone is the illusion of champagne grandeur my friends. That floaty feeling of working in PR like it’s a career-long pamper party… that glam ship has sailed. So snap out of it, load more data and get back to finding influencers with integrity, god dammit.
Most of my work is around digital communications; but I certainly never planned it like this. A decade ago when I studied Public Relations, social media was a small-caps-blip on the horizon, not a job role. In fact, we were only just tweaking the fonts on our Myspace pages and our assignments involved conjuring imaginary integrated campaigns that included exciting things like delivering cupcakes to the media, hotel room drops, launches — and lunches, oh the lunches !— and exotic prizes like air balloon rides over the Drakensberg for grand prize winners, because winning competitions was fancy and rare.
But when I graduated, Facebook arrived about 5 mins later — or even during my graduation ceremony, I can’t be sure — and I found myself in a swiftly changing environment that looked nothing like, and was far creatively from, the thing I had spent 3 years studying to do. Funny that. As I dabbled on my own digital journey, I saw a merging of sorts ahead and it felt wildly exciting, like an open road to career fulfilment.
This PR Thing and this Online Thing could very well be the most incredible place to be when they connected in the near future. I was excited, I was going to be and do this whole new thing!
Oh how right and very wrong I was. I mean yes, hey-shoo-wow, things have changed dynamically since then; technology, communication in general, there’s no denying it’s a realm of infinite possibility. But within this line of industry, certainly on the side of digital marketing, in which I find myself; it’s all become rather formulaic. Certainly in the churn of social media, certainly in the way we spend our days, apply our minds and index fingers *ahem*. The constant open, scroll, follow, like, reply, prep, check, post, boost, review, close and repeat.
Don’t get me wrong; I get sublime kicks out of putting together a content strategy; crafting the copy elements, combining with imagery, mapping out in an aesthetically pleasing way, weaving story, messaging and call-to-actions in, hashtag cloud to seed deeply, and schedule to flow like a well-oiled machine. Bliss! Momentary bliss — about 4 hours of after action satisfaction. And then it’s done, next! There’s something ajar for me though, an element missing that I can only surmise as depth of creative stretch, and it’s starting to work on my adrenal-fatigued nerves.
Upon inspection, if you’re really prepared to look; the work is a cherry of instant-gratification and the longevity of the skill-set is debatable but more and more-so, fleeting; an ever moving-goal post of blink-and-you’ll-miss-it feeds, fly-by-night content trends, keeping up with the socials, and playing catch ‘em if you can with digital conglomerates designing the whole system to be two streaks ahead of we minions. A game even the most well-intentioned human can only pursue in noble quest. I never knew I could miss the canapés I never had and the wax-sealed experiential event invites I never sent. But there you have it.
If someone switched the internet off tomorrow, I’d likely be out of business. I’d have to start writing personalised poems at craft markets; the equivalent of busking with words — because I sure as hell can’t sing. It’s kind of a scary thing to consider. Nothing new of course, but nonetheless, a line of thought that can’t be avoided every now and then… Especially when on the nightshift for a client’s new website, and finding yourself staring at your wrist as you type, wondering if arthritis is imminent, instead.
I can’t be the only disillusioned communicator drowning in a abyss of digital functions. Carpal Tunnel must surely be a tipping point? Or is this just a moment of over-saturated weakness? I guess I’ll take an anti-inflammatory and update you via Insta-story in the morning.
