Dear Facebook
My friend Gretchen Peck wrote this open letter to Facebook regarding their new terms and conditions.
Dear Facebook,
Like so many former lovers who let me down over the years, you have followed suit. Oh, I did love you. I was vested in our relationship, unlike you—you, who continually changed the rules of the game on me. First there was the whole “that was the old me; this is the new me” identity crisis you went through. And yet, I stayed with you. I embraced the new you, as challenging as that transition may have been for us.
Then you let me down by promising a new and improved you. You gave me chat capabilities, but I quickly realized that your version of chat wasn’t all that great. For no reason at all, you boot me offline, go frigid and freeze up on me. Maybe that was when my love for you really started to wane.
Oh, it wasn’t all doom and gloom. We had our good times, too. Like when you helped me reconnect with some great friends with whom I’d sadly lost touch with over the years since high school and college. And you made me feel special, like I had real flair. And you even listened to me when I complained that my online world was becoming so complicated, with the convergence of friends and business associates—and you gave me the ability to speak directly to each of those communities individually.
You were always non-judgmental when I’d go on a rant and write for days about whatever happened to be irritating me in that moment. And you didn’t mind when I cyber-stalked a few ex-boyfriends. Yes, we’ve had some good times.
But then you betrayed me, yet again. And this time, I may be at my breaking point. For you changed your terms and conditions. Now, I’m not naïve, dear Facebook. I know that the cyber world is a cruel one, that nothing is ever really private in the online world. Publish at your own risk. I get that. I knew that all those secrets and memories I’ve shared here were fair game, on public display, and subject to cyber pirates at any time. But I always had the opportunity to walk away, to say to you, I don’t want to be in this relationship anymore, and we had an agreement that you wouldn’t use what I’ve told you against me. It was a code of conduct we shared.
But you’ve gone back on your word. It’s as though you’ve said to me, “You can leave me, but I’m going to sell your story to the tabloids.” I cancel my account with you, and yet you still retain the rights to any and all of the content I’ve shared with you during our tumultuous relationship?” Just what are you going to do with my story? Sell it? Repackage it? Make money from it? Blackmail me with it? It’s cheap, a low blow, and for this, I may never forgive you.
Sincerely, Gretchen
Dear Facebook,
Like so many former lovers who let me down over the years, you have followed suit. Oh, I did love you. I was vested in our relationship, unlike you—you, who continually changed the rules of the game on me. First there was the whole “that was the old me; this is the new me” identity crisis you went through. And yet, I stayed with you. I embraced the new you, as challenging as that transition may have been for us.
Then you let me down by promising a new and improved you. You gave me chat capabilities, but I quickly realized that your version of chat wasn’t all that great. For no reason at all, you boot me offline, go frigid and freeze up on me. Maybe that was when my love for you really started to wane.
Oh, it wasn’t all doom and gloom. We had our good times, too. Like when you helped me reconnect with some great friends with whom I’d sadly lost touch with over the years since high school and college. And you made me feel special, like I had real flair. And you even listened to me when I complained that my online world was becoming so complicated, with the convergence of friends and business associates—and you gave me the ability to speak directly to each of those communities individually.
You were always non-judgmental when I’d go on a rant and write for days about whatever happened to be irritating me in that moment. And you didn’t mind when I cyber-stalked a few ex-boyfriends. Yes, we’ve had some good times.
But then you betrayed me, yet again. And this time, I may be at my breaking point. For you changed your terms and conditions. Now, I’m not naïve, dear Facebook. I know that the cyber world is a cruel one, that nothing is ever really private in the online world. Publish at your own risk. I get that. I knew that all those secrets and memories I’ve shared here were fair game, on public display, and subject to cyber pirates at any time. But I always had the opportunity to walk away, to say to you, I don’t want to be in this relationship anymore, and we had an agreement that you wouldn’t use what I’ve told you against me. It was a code of conduct we shared.
But you’ve gone back on your word. It’s as though you’ve said to me, “You can leave me, but I’m going to sell your story to the tabloids.” I cancel my account with you, and yet you still retain the rights to any and all of the content I’ve shared with you during our tumultuous relationship?” Just what are you going to do with my story? Sell it? Repackage it? Make money from it? Blackmail me with it? It’s cheap, a low blow, and for this, I may never forgive you.
Sincerely, Gretchen
posted by Matt Beals at Tuesday, February 17, 2009
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