Let’s write more stories 5

I know what you’re thinking. I know you’re thinking how disappointed you are that this week’s story technically came a day late. I know you’re thinking how much better these stories would be if my blog was full of other content to help divide them up. I know you’re thinking that this blog is really just a narcissistic attempt for me to convince myself that I can still do ‘real writing’ whilst being an amazing copywriter, and that no matter how fantastic the words I write in the day are I can still produce more in the night.

I know you’re now thinking that it would be good if the made up list of things that I know you’re thinking about would stop. So you’re in luck, because it just did.

Anyway, it’s short story number 5 and this one is based on a sort of true story, if you discount all of the fiction.


Story 5.

It had been 3 years since I stopped managing the page. A beer brand that had attempted to try out comedy thought that Facebook would be the perfect home for its laddish humour, and for a while they were right. That was until the algorithms changed and it became harder to attract new fans. That was when everything became different, when we had to think outside the box, when social media became less of a free marketing tool and more of an overcrowded, meme-laden minefield for any brand that didn’t know what it was doing.

The page closed and, after a while, we all forgot about it. I moved on to different jobs and different clients, and soon enough the memories of those monthly KPI reports were slipping out the back of my brain.

One thing, however, kept them from falling out completely. After years of nothing, suddenly Facebook decided to remind me of my former life. Once a month a notification would pop up telling me all about the page’s latest performance.

“Your page is getting 0 views, Ash. See how you could improve it.”

“Your page’s engagement has gone down, Ash. Would you like to update it?”

Just little things like that, little suggestions that maybe Facebook had realised its brand power was decreasing and it was trying to do something to entice the marketers back. At first these notifications were just amusing reminders. I’d click on the page and scroll back through its timeline, taking in all of the content I’d filled it with and remembering a different stage in my life, one where I was more into likes and comments and shares. I’d smile, I’d chuckle, I’d move on, until eventually I forgot all about them too. The notifications would still pop up, but I’d just click off them and accept them as an oddity that the internet threw up.

To me they became as irrelevant as birthday reminders, or the rare poke that a relative would send through. Another little red one that I could ignore, and that’s exactly what I did for the next few months.

That was until the notification changed.

“Ash, your page is getting noticed!” it said, excitedly, and for the first time in ages I noticed it too. I clicked on the tab and my page opened up, and I headed straight to its engagement report.

Sure enough, my page was getting looked at. At the same time every day for the past week someone had viewed it, increasing my stats by 100%. A bot, I thought, or perhaps another former admin who was feeling nostalgic.

I thought little of it, until right then another view popped up. They were there with me, we were looking at it together.

For a while I hovered, thinking of it as nothing more than a coincidence. But then a friend request popped up, and I realised I was no longer alone.