Several years ago, I was at a DC area barcamp. I forget which one. (I am, admittedly, a bit of a barcamp junkie.) While there, a well-connected DC blogger asked if I’d be interested in speaking at her company about generational diversity and social media uptake. “Why, of course, thank you,” was my response (or something along those lines … I’m telling a story, not chronicling history), and I reached for my business card to hand her.
She looked at me, and I swear, she almost sneered at me. She said, “I know how to get in touch with you, Jessie.”
So, rather sheepishly, I put my card away, realizing in that moment, that the act of passing paper is not always considered a convenience to the recipient. Me, I like paper. And business cards serve as physical reminders of people I’ve met. But — and apparently — for many, and I’d assume for those leaning more toward the Millennial generation and younger side of GenXers, my way of seeing the world is not theirs.
Fast forward a few years …
Earlier this week, I hosted, as I do, a somewhat-monthly party for local bloggers. This particular party was co-hosted by three gals who live in a section of my community and, quite understandably, they wanted the party to be held on their home turf at a nearby restaurant/bar. As the party planning was underway, we aimed to invite not just the bloggers, but community leaders. We invited merchants located in the same building as the bar. We invited PTA presidents and business owners, active volunteers and more.
All good. And the party was quite different in tone and vibe … and lovely in its own way.
As I was the primary hostess and central point for people coming in to the party, I quickly noticed something quite distinct among the guests. The people who blogged, tweeted and were otherwise what could be called “social media enthusiasts,” “plugged in,” “Web 2.0 savvy,” or whatever term you’d like, showed up with smartphones in hand and the occasional business card to present, as needed.
The non-bloggers showed up with fliers to hand out, stacks of business cards and paper galore. They looked at me, as the host, and asked where they could display their fliers. “Oh, we don’t have any space for that, sorry …” was my answer.
Don’t get me wrong: Paper has it’s place. But the difference that was so clear is that for those who had an online identity (the bloggers), they didn’t need to present themselves … with fliers, cards or collateral material. They were knowable. They had a URL. They had a name (a blog name, an identity as a blog commenter, a Twitter handle.) Those who didn’t, didn’t. And, by the end of the evening, the “digital divide” was quite obvious.
I understand well that not everyone could, should or would blog. And thank goodness. Bloggers need readers. But there is a huge field of opportunity to be engaged and knowable online. In Howard County, where I live, @MacsMom is a great example of this. She doesn’t blog (well, she has a blog, but she had one post in 2008 and another in 2009), but she is an engaged commenter on the local blogs. She tweets and actively retweets others’ content. And she’s active on Facebook and shares local information. She’s knowable … and known.
The personal asset of having an online identity backed up by who you are in the community (a geographic, interest-based and/or professional one) is a place that I would encourage the majority of adults I know to put some attention and energy.
Be known. To the level you’re comfortable for now, but be known nonetheless.
Images via grammardocs and moblogsmoproblems.blogspot.com
The parties are usually mostly local bloggers who live in Howard County and a handful of readers; it’s a nice mix. We’ll be at Pure Wine Cafe in Historic Ellicott City tonight from 6:15 – 7:45 p.m. My co-host, 
This was fun. At this evening’s Hoco BlogTail party, 
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