Good thing I’ve gone through several periods of unemployment over the years, or my recent interaction with Facebook might have turned ugly. When you can’t figure something out relative to software in some program, there’s no one to turn to usually. And battling unemployment software as you apply for jobs is about as bad as it gets.
Frustration turns to rage. Rage turns to a sense of loss. Then everything seems pointless.
Let’s set the scene: I went on Facebook to post an item. I couldn’t reach my page. Because I manage several accounts for clients, one of my other accounts came up as my home page, but no matter what steps were taken, there was no way back to my personal home page.
When things like this happen, you try to be logical. Not that interactive software programs are logical. You must know AND follow the pattern of however the person designing the script wants you to go. Since you don’t know that, any step you take is illogical (unless you squeak in the correct one).
That means you must try counter-intuitive steps, make leaps into strange places and see where it takes you. In the case with Facebook, that meant clicking every button on the page. None sent me anywhere useable.
The next step meant going to Ms. Google and checking on how to solve the problem with Facebook. While they posed 897 potential questions, none pertained to: “My Facebook page disappeared.” I invented one and clicked to submit it. Still waiting for that answer as it evaporates in the ether world.
Third step was using Ms. Google again to re-sign in. Yup, makes sense. Maybe there is something locked in on one of the other accounts I manage, limiting my ability to return to my personal homepage.
In this case, Ms. Google made things more difficult, as the first nine entries all sent me right back to the same page, and did not give me an option to sign in with my password. Sigh.
YES! On the tenth Google listing, there was the option to sign in. VICTORY?!
Nope. Checking into this option meant having a code. The way the phrasing was worded meant you were already supposed to have it. Nope.
More frustration. More back and forth. Then, I went back to the login and figured there had to be more. Read and scrolled deeper onto the page, and you could ask to have the code texted to you, which I did, and BAM, the code came to email, I inserted it, and my homepage popped up. Only 47 minutes of yanking on my declining hair, thinking about asking my wife for support, but then knowing that even though she’s a technological genius, she would be no help because she does nothing with Facebook, so I was on my own.
I draw the unemployment analogy to lend solace to anyone who has lost their job in the last 10-15 years. There are so many non-intuitive steps you must take to apply for jobs, and each company chooses to baffle you further with requirements, and you regularly get your electronic applications stymied because of a lack of certain data, that it’s way easier to give up on jobs then to apply for them.
Maybe companies looking to hire good people should hook up with Facebook to share information. They might be able to come up with solutions, but they’d probably only serve to further confuse. Scrap that idea. You’re on your own. Good luck. Hopefully you have someone savvy and young enough in your family tree to lend a hand. That’s the best you’re gonna get. Don’t call me, as I’ll be out back with a beer.
Frustration turns to rage. Rage turns to a sense of loss. Then everything seems pointless.
Let’s set the scene: I went on Facebook to post an item. I couldn’t reach my page. Because I manage several accounts for clients, one of my other accounts came up as my home page, but no matter what steps were taken, there was no way back to my personal home page.
When things like this happen, you try to be logical. Not that interactive software programs are logical. You must know AND follow the pattern of however the person designing the script wants you to go. Since you don’t know that, any step you take is illogical (unless you squeak in the correct one).
That means you must try counter-intuitive steps, make leaps into strange places and see where it takes you. In the case with Facebook, that meant clicking every button on the page. None sent me anywhere useable.
The next step meant going to Ms. Google and checking on how to solve the problem with Facebook. While they posed 897 potential questions, none pertained to: “My Facebook page disappeared.” I invented one and clicked to submit it. Still waiting for that answer as it evaporates in the ether world.
Third step was using Ms. Google again to re-sign in. Yup, makes sense. Maybe there is something locked in on one of the other accounts I manage, limiting my ability to return to my personal homepage.
In this case, Ms. Google made things more difficult, as the first nine entries all sent me right back to the same page, and did not give me an option to sign in with my password. Sigh.
YES! On the tenth Google listing, there was the option to sign in. VICTORY?!
Nope. Checking into this option meant having a code. The way the phrasing was worded meant you were already supposed to have it. Nope.
More frustration. More back and forth. Then, I went back to the login and figured there had to be more. Read and scrolled deeper onto the page, and you could ask to have the code texted to you, which I did, and BAM, the code came to email, I inserted it, and my homepage popped up. Only 47 minutes of yanking on my declining hair, thinking about asking my wife for support, but then knowing that even though she’s a technological genius, she would be no help because she does nothing with Facebook, so I was on my own.
I draw the unemployment analogy to lend solace to anyone who has lost their job in the last 10-15 years. There are so many non-intuitive steps you must take to apply for jobs, and each company chooses to baffle you further with requirements, and you regularly get your electronic applications stymied because of a lack of certain data, that it’s way easier to give up on jobs then to apply for them.
Maybe companies looking to hire good people should hook up with Facebook to share information. They might be able to come up with solutions, but they’d probably only serve to further confuse. Scrap that idea. You’re on your own. Good luck. Hopefully you have someone savvy and young enough in your family tree to lend a hand. That’s the best you’re gonna get. Don’t call me, as I’ll be out back with a beer.