I barely know the town I live in, despite having owned a home here for over three years. I’m active with two small groups, but I’ve never been to town hall and have only stepped into a public school a few times to vote.
I know some of the local shops and restaurants, but I probably couldn’t name ten people who actually live in this town. I smile and wave at my other neighbors often, but they never wave back.
I know so little about my current town. I don’t even know what our Mayor would wager if we had a professional baseball team that made it to the World Series: a hundred potholes perhaps, or maybe the rights to expand a franchise restaurant of your choice within city limits.
Yet I know this town in a way that I’ve never known any other community thanks to my membership in a private Facebook community group of over sixteen-thousand members.
The group was started by a local realtor as a way of helping people new to the community find things like handymen, plumbers, and new restaurants. It’s since taken on a life of its own with several admins constantly policing the content for adherence to their own arbitrary standards.
As early man was brought fireside out of fear of darkness, I was introduced to my town’s Facebook community forum as a resource to learn about car break-ins happening in town. And I did learn about them, but the reactions weren’t what I was expecting.
Some of the people posting in these forums are among the worst that I’ve ever encountered. Many know they are trolls, but most do not, which creates an oddly entertaining display of pettiness. Connecticut’s reputation for social reservation does not translate to the Internet.
The post that hooked me was a lively back-and-forth between a tattoo parlor and their less-than-satisfied customer who was trying to organize a public boycott of the business. The thread combined the fury of a woman scorned with the narcissism of someone who believes their body to be an actual piece of art.
Then there was a spectacular pile-up on a woman who offhandedly remarked that people who rummage through trash cans for cans and bottles may be suffering from mental illness.
The spectacularness came not from her self-righteousness or even the self-righteousness of those who boasted openly about their dumpster-discovered treasures, but from her accusing others of being unable to take a joke when the pileup itself had clearly become one aimed at her.
The agony and exasperation grew stronger with each of her attempts at clarifying her meaning. It really made me respect the abilities of PR staff who specialize in damage control. Sorry baseball, public shaming remains America’s true favorite pastime.
As time passed, I saw the forum’s nasty, rough, and jaded edges. A person warning others of items stolen from her car was answered with rants about “idiots” who never lock their doors and sweeping generalities about the deterioration of our society.
The average Facebook user has 338 friends, so I think some people are just using this platform to further their reach, like yelling into a slightly larger abyss filled with snake oil salesmen who may be bankrolled by Russia.
In this forum, it doesn’t matter if someone has already made the exact same comment, people just want to be heard. One person posted asking for the best local place to get a margarita and, with well over a hundred responses, I figured there must be a ton of great places in the area. But it turned out to be a hundred people posting the same #basic answer ignoring all of the others who posted before them.
I get a lot of humor out of reading other people’s foolishness and giving Jenny live readings of their rants, but overall, I trust the people.
The forum helped me find some good restaurants and made me aware of new businesses. It informed me of upcoming events and helped me find my trusted electrician who added a new feature to my home at no additional cost: lights that flicker anytime the air conditioning kicks on.
I gave him a 5-star review with the headline: Service so good it turned my summer into a dance party.
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