‘Twas the Night Before My Social Media Detox
’Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even my mouse.
The tweets were all scheduled and fact-checked with care,
In hopes that some readers would still be on there.
The videos were nestled all snug in their embeds,
While visions of view counts danced in my head.
I’d shut down my laptop and closed my inbox
To settle my brain for a social detox.
When out on the feeds there arose such a chatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what’s the matter.
Away to my laptop I flew like a flash,
Tore open my browser and emptied my cache.
The light on the front of my now-open screen
Near blinded me fully and wiped my view clean.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But talk of an error I’d made writing “we’re.”
With a little apostrophe, simply misplaced,
I knew in a moment the challenge I faced.
More rapid than eagles, my haters they came.
They tweeted, and @-ed, and called me by name.
“How dare you! How could you! You made a mistake!
Fire that person! They must be a fake!
A monkey could do it, just sending a tweet!
You managed to mangle the easiest feat.”
As water will bubble upon an old spout,
I sputtered and stumbled and looked for an out.
So over to Google my fingertips flew,
To hastily ask what on Earth I should do.
Still my notifications continued to flood,
With edits and audits and notes for my dud.
Before the search engine could offer some help,
I deleted my tweet and just let out a “Welp.”
But that’s when I realized I’d weakened my case.
According to Google, you never erase.
Seems too many brands fall right into that trap,
Doomed to be met with a virtual slap.
My eyes, how they twinkled. My tears, how they flowed.
My heart beat too fast, while time felt like it slowed.
My droll little mouth was drawn down like a bow,
And the tint of my skin was as pale as the snow.
The hate came on stronger, on louder, on quickly.
They laid it on good and they laid it on thickly.
“Oh look, you can’t even admit to your goof.
That’s why we took screenshots. So now we have proof.”
At this point, I could’ve just hidden in fear,
Retreated and quit and said, “See ya next year.”
But no, I remembered a cardinal rule:
Own up to your gaffes and do not lose your cool.
I spoke not a word, but went straight to my work,
And filled out the text box, then turned with a jerk.
And laying my finger aside of my nose,
And giving a nod, the “Post” button I chose.
“We’re sorry,” I’d written. “For causing a scream.
To make our amends, here’s a Santa Claus meme.
We know that it’s ‘we’re’ and we know ‘were’ ain’t right.
Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night.”