Bartlett’s Tartlets – A communication crisis at Christmas

A couple of weeks (well, months) ago, I wrote a post on LinkedIn that I thought was really funny.
Generally speaking, I think that *most* of the posts I put out on LinkedIn are funny (even if it’s only me who laughs at them).
What was far funnier on this particular occasion, however, was the raft of comedy comments that people were able to shit out with remarkable ease in response to the conversation starter. A quick glance at said post and you’ll understand why I chose that exact phrasing, by the way.
Genuinely, I read through all of the comments, and I laughed, I smiled, I nodded along. Even the ones that weren’t laugh-out-loud funny had managed to elicit warmth and teased a nod or a knowing smile from me almost effortlessly. I’d opened a gate for my own amusement, and I’d in turn enabled a stream of decent humans to walk right through it to join me. It felt like a good way to get to know those people a little better.
The jokes, the personality quirks, the stories… all of the responses – whatever their point or purpose – seemingly flowed with conversational ease from even the most reserved posters on the platform. What’s more, absolutely nobody needed to find or fabricate a starting point, or to shoehorn in a business ‘lesson’ to a story that never likely happened to begin with, or to god forbid ask people a question they had no interest in ever finding out the answer to. Not a barmcake/bread roll debate in sight, either. Bliss.
The thing is, when someone else starts the conversation on places like LinkedIn, I think we all feel a bit more confident about saying something or voicing up. It’s easier – and we’re happier – to put forward a response or a remark, because someone else put themselves out there to start it all off, and therefore takes the brunt of the pressure for that conversation to be any good or to ‘add value’ to our scrolling lives in any way. In those situations, we’re just adding to a conversation that’s already been established. We’re contributors more than creators, and therefore, there’s less pressure to perform. Our approach when conversing rather than creating is more relaxed, our countenance is more natural, and in general, we come across as a bit more real in our responses. It makes sense that we should use this to our advantage when going about our marketing online, I feel.
I’m no LinkedIn expert (I don’t believe anyone truly fucking knows what’s going on around there, these days), but in a world where everyone has a social media soundbite or a resource* telling you what to post about, when to post it, and why you absolutely have to post it or your business will surely die, my response is always the same to my post-panicked clients…
Take the pressure out of posting by… not posting.
That’s it. Pretty much ‘don’t post’.
Instead, go and get stuck in with the literally countless existing conversations that have already been started elsewhere on the platform. Pick a decent conversation, obviously – something you actually want to dive right in with talking about. And I don’t mean jump onto an influencer post, either. Those people wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire, never mind give you the time of day by actually engaging with you – no matter how far up their anal canal you doggy-paddle. Plus, your comments on those posts will be swallowed up in seconds anyway by the countless other fangirls and fanboys who swoop in with their simpering cries of “needed this today” and “you are such an inspiration” – usually in response to a post about the sky being blue or the notion that if you don’t breathe every now and then, you’ll die. Starting a conversation and stating the bleeding obvious are two very different things. Think motivational Monday morning Bartlett’s Tartlets. Sorry, that’s my name for those vanilla-filled social media/billboard morsels of motivation you see served up everywhere from people with so-called influential levels of influenceness. You know the ones – tough to stomach, leave a saccharine taste in your mouth, and render you ultimately unsatisfied upon digestion. No, don’t respond to those posts, and certainly don’t fucking write them.
I’m never a fan of posting for posting’s sake, driving yourself mad trying to make yourself sound ‘better’, or sticking to any kind of plan when it comes to posting on social media. And wouldn’t you agree, life would be a hell of a lot simpler – and infinitely more entertaining – if people just came out with the genuine thoughts in their head the second they had them?
Just me?
Okay.
Take the pressure out of posting, and go kick ass in the comments. That’s my advice. It’s my Christmas message, if you will, seeing as I started writing this in August and have only just got round to posting it in December.
Christmas is a stressful enough time of year as it is – even if you’re not feeling festive or planning to celebrate at all. If there aren’t presents to wrap, foodstuffs to buy, and events to attend, then there are arguments to have, meltdowns to endure, and events to make excuses for. Also there are likely elves to move. Please, for all that is holy in the blessed family, don’t add ‘content to create’ to that list – especially if you already dread it the rest of the fucking year, as it is.
That’s just depressing.
This Christmas, when it comes to your marketing, don’t have a crisis – have a conversation.
All the festive best,
Jo x
*Before anyone comes for me about ME having a resource, mine’s all about sorting out your damn profile in the first place. There’s no point having the best bantz on social if the minute people click on your bio to read all about you they can’t work out for love nor money what the buggery bollocks you claim to sort, solve, or sell. Boost Your Bio, people. My gift to you. Providing you pay for it, obviously.










