I have two petty annoyances to report on. Sharing them will in no way
enlighten you, but neither will these problems continue to weigh on me like lead
sinkers in my pants pockets.
The first problem I have is with Classmates.com. Classmates.com represents
the worst of the worst of social networking apps. The site and its heavily
constrained database are engorged with advertising and fees. Classmates.com: a
poster child for frame-jacking. The site is, at its best, un-navigable; at
its worst, an e-robber baron donning "social networking" clothing. Why
should I care?
All the way back in 1991, the year of my high school commencement, I was
class prez. Quite an honor at the time, of course, and I had a hand in the
post-H.S. leadership, cheering on the many admirable folks far more dedicated
than me (D. included) who orchestrated the five- and ten-year reunions.
Today, an email came from Classmates.com: "Thus-n-such has sent you a Classmates
Email." Cool. I remembered the sender. Classmates stood as an
interceptor, an intermediary, walling apart the participants in the interchange,
but the message has links leading me to think I could retrieve the message.
And I could. For 15 bucks…. (the fee for signing on with a three month gold
membership). The subject line, however, came across clearly: "Class
I get it. Cryptic, but at least I knew the email message concerned our
impending reunion, the reunion I’ve done absolutely nothing to plan. Rather
than pay the moolah, I used the Classmates.com system to send a response.
It’s filtered, but maybe J., the sender, has fronted a few bucks for a
membership (hey, I’m a grad student; many former classmates, no doubt, are
collecting a bigger bag of chips each year than my TA stipend).
Later in the afternoon, another message from J. Again, I couldn’t access the
content, but I could tell, because he hadn’t emailed me directly the way I asked
him to, that he didn’t have access to the body of my message. Like me, he
lacks the much coveted Gold Membership and the many social advantages that come
with full access to Classmates.com (post a bio about yourself! post photos!
search!). Oy. Okay, so what else is there? A few minutes ago I
typed up one final message, this time using the subject line as the message
space. Classmates.com has plugged many of the gaps that would allow
information to stream freely through its toll-burdened sluices, but not this
one. The subject line is the only space that shows up, the only space that is
readable. I may as well try to use it to communicate. One more thought: an improvement to the site would be just the thing I need: a Teflon membership or, that is, one email for $.05.
Whether or not I get in touch with J. is less the point than that
Classmates.com is distressingly obtuse. For the cost of an annual
membership, I can host a site that floats my name well into the top ten for
Google queries searching my name. I’d google J., but his name is among the
most generic combos possible (59.9 million results). Maybe it will work to use
the subject line; maybe it won’t. Maybe a few minutes on fiascomates.com
is all the cosmological force I need to warrant resigning my esteemed post. It’s
not as though I have the faintest thought about getting involved with 15-year
reunion, after all.
The second issue is somewhat less perturbing, but I still rate its annoyance
quotient quite high–above the peace and calm that should characterize
these last few days of my May break (before a June of exam reading, teaching
online and so on). Here’s the thing: I developed a few courses for Former
U., and I continue to occupy the developer’s role. It requires a small
amount of work from me: updates when book editions change, minor adjustments to
assignments, etc. There’s a place in the CMS for developer’s notes.
That’s good; I’d like to put the space to use. Fill it in with rationale for the
design of the course, add comments about how I imagine the course moving along.
But each time I log into the developer’s section of the course, where the basic
or stable content is kept, I find the developer’s notes locked, uneditable.
Did I mention that I’m the developer? Yes, I did. For the
bazillionth time, I sent a request to the folks who have access to the settings.
And I heard back from them. The developer’s notes have been unlocked
temporarily. Apparently unlocking that area of the course means that
instructors can edit the developer’s notes, too. Once I’m finished with
the developer’s notes, they’ll be locked again so that nobody can tamper with
them, "notes" being so refined and permanent, I guess. And this confounding loop will
complete its cycle, only to recur again and again.