Working in TV made Twitter fun and easy. While walking from the parking lot to the station, I’d see a woman dressed like a prostitute. Tweet! In the morning meeting, someone blurted out something redonkulous. Tweet! The disgruntled manager whispered something too loudly. A co-worker complained I’m too noisy. A smart reporter cracked on his dumb assignment. Tweet! Tweet! Tweet!
Most people were Tweeting links to content. I Tweeted life’s craziness. A photographer walked in wearing bright, red shoes. A live truck broke down five minutes before a live shot. An anchor said something the rest of us took out of context.
I take credit for having the talent to recognize a good Tweet. But my TV potpourri inadvertently wrote my material.
Then I left TV. I don’t see prostitutes anymore. No one complains about my loud voice. The meetings I attend are not snarky and sarcastic.
Twitter is about joining the conversation. But my surroundings have dropped in silliness. My search for goofiness often goes empty. For me, Twitter now is more work than party. It’s more content than craziness.
I miss you, my TV friends. Twitter misses you more.
I still love your tweets. Instead of the newsroom, Molly your dog has become your sounding board