Shame. It’s an ugly feeling, and to paraphrase Super Troopers, “a stinky cologne.” Why am I bathed in its eau de toilette? Because I, the online marketing manager of a New York publisher, was recently ousted as Mayor of his own office on Foursquare.
I didn’t hold a lot of pride in the mayorship, as only a few colleagues are fellow Foursquarers. I knew I had a lockdown on my little yellow crown icon by dint of my job title and semi-diligence in checking in. (Not everyday, but at least a few times a week.) And yet my world was rent asunder by the notification that some random guy on the floor below me is the new mayor. I was punished, I see now, for my hubris.
I’ve already gone through all seven stages of grief:
- Denial: Clearly there’s been some kind of mistake.
- Guilt: This is what I get for not checking in daily! So some new young Turk can swoop in and topple the crown.
- Bargaining: I should go find this usurper. And somehow get him fired.
- Depression: If I can’t be Mayor of my own place of employ, what kind of an Online Marketing Manager am I?
- Adjustment: Really. It’s just Foursquare.
- Working Through: I’m still the mayor of the organic sandwich shop next to my apartment!
- Acceptance: Screw this, I’m going to blog about it.
It’s fine. I have a plan. I’m going to create a new location: the FSG bathroom. Check in there twice a day, necessitating another check-in when I return to my desk. None of this checking in when I arrive in the morning crap. The mayoralty will be restored, all will be well in the FSG (e-)kingdom, and I can go back to figuring out how scvngr works.