So, long story short, I hate Let Me Google That For You. It is, by design, a slap in the face. Which is great, provided you mean to slap someone in the face. But somewhere along the way, people have forgotten how to approach the faceless, but relentless interactions we have online. I’m currently looking for someone to recommend a micro-brew in the Seattle area. I asked yesterday evening on Facebook. I asked this afternoon on Twitter (which them reposted on Facebook) – I very rarely ask for information this way, but having used Google and Yelp, I wasn’t happy with the answers, which were from people I don’t know, with tastes I don’t know. So, I asked.

And someone sent me a Let Me Google That For You link as a reply. I don’t know that they meant it to be funny or serious, but all in all, it remains unhelpful, and – as designed – a slap in the face. And I was already in a grim mood. If it was a joke, I didn’t get it, as I don’t know their sense of humour. Did they assume I ask a lot of questions like this? Did they assume I am, like a lot of people, lazy when it comes to using the single greatest research tool ever (bearing in mind that I went through all of grade school using a card catalogue)? Is their Facebook wall filled with people asking questions, and I got lumped in? Do they assume I read everything they post and have a good sense of their humourous nature? Doesn’t matter – I’m still sitting here with a reply that basically makes me feel like an idiot. And I know it’s not deserved – I did some leg work, and Google doesn’t replace personal opinion, which is what I wanted. I wanted people I knew – even vaguely – to tell me their experience. And from there, I could invest a certain amount of blind trust.

Here’s my thinking;

LMGTFY – Usage Guide
Use of Let Me Google That For You should only be under two out of three circumstances.
1) It is confirmed that the target hasn’t actually tried Google.
2) The target habitually asks for crowd sourced answers to annoying levels.
3) The target knows you well enough to understand application of LMGTFY is intended seriously or jokingly.

If a minimum of two out of the above three conditions are not met, you will be effectively pissing someone off unintentionally. If one or none are met, you’ll still be pissing them off, but it’s likely that was at least casually intended.

In summation – I hereby consign LMGTFY to the same bin as “meh” and some variation of “I think / I’m not sure, but” while on the Internet.

And I STILL don’t have a recommendation for a good micro-brew in the Seattle area? Will anyone bother replying after the grumpbomb went off? Was nobody posting a reply anyhow? How will I know? I certainly can’t ask again.

ARRRRGH.

Posted here for those in the family that aren’t on Facebook.

I got to spend a day at the Penny Arcade Expo this year and as a capper before I had to hit the road home, I opted to sit in on a panel a friend was on. It was about Twitter and social media for gaming companies, so it was relevant to my interests as well.

All panels at PAX had a line-up, some long, some short, but all there, all the time. So the PAX Enforcers (volunteers) took to doing little things to entertain the crowd. Some did trivia contests for PAX buttons. Others put on little shows. And one clever clogs, who was at our line, took “informal polls”, which were basically a way to get people talking.

NOW, I will point out that in a line-up where everyone has a giant bag will with stuff they’ve collected over the day, and every second person has some sort of mobile gaming device, I’m not sure the line amusers were needed, but it’s a clever idea I approve of anyhow. Case in point, the guy with the polling idea;

He was standing right in front of me, holding a scrap of paper and pen, a give-away he wasn’t polling for any reason other than fun. “Is it alright if I ask you all a few questions?” He gets a few nods and uh-huhs. He points at the guy next to me;

“What’s your favourite Pokemon?” Johnny on the spot had an excited answer, but I did not recognize the name nor did it register in my memory. I will substitute the only Pokemon I know. “Pikachu!”

“Yeah, he’s a good one.” A big discussion of the merits of not-Pikachu ensues for a minute or so, then the pollster turns to me.

“And what’s yours?”

“I’m 37.”

You have to understand, the average age at PAX is probably 26. The guy on the other side of me, a developer from Firehose Games, suppresses a laugh. The pollster looks confused at me.

“Pokemon came out while I was in University. I’ve never played it or watched it.”

The poor pollster looked so dejected, but the line had begun to move, so I guess technically he had done his job and entertained a bunch of us. In different ways.