“They’re in Bangalore!? What the helly”
“Yoooo, are we putting HnC scene today”
*insert 28347 unwatched reels from that one friend who’s chronically online*
These are the notifications I am bombarded with when I get up at 5 am to chug some ungodly amounts of water from the dispenser. Of course, with the self-control of the kids who flopped the marshmallow test, I go ahead and see all the texts (and somehow, I always reply in my head only to get yelled at later in the day). As I migrate from the DMs to the supremely tempting reels page, a whole new wave of overstimulation washes over me. Everything from PCRC edits to 6-7 brainrot to grave war crimes—it’s all just…there one after the other, in a chronology that wouldn’t have ever made sense to us back in 2015. Still, I just sit there and scroll till the sun comes up.
Soon enough, an inner voice kicks in, asking me to put the damn phone down.
I obey…
…for like 2 seconds, until I am back on the doomscroll grind again. No matter how many videos of heuristics to curb this seemingly endless loop I watch, the dopamine detox just isn’t in the stars for me. Even if I wanted it to be. Just the very nature of my job won’t allow it to happen. Now you might ask me, which job is so fun that it requires someone to be chronically online to be productive? This is a canon event for anyone who has been a social media manager. Especially, of a random university club, they run their space like it’s the Navy! You just can’t log out. One missed day, and your ideas to hop on a trend shall go stale. Your playlists are stacked with Maui Wowie, Illegal, and Not Like Us. I was at the edge of my seat thinking that Oye Lucky was gonna make it as my Top Song on Wrapped. Such is the nature of the role. It is a brutal world out there. You don’t know whether to be creative or compliant with the trends. Every ruffle in season demands something new, but also something that shall gain shareability quickly.
So, I switch accounts to search for inspo right before my 8.30am lecture, trying to come up with genius plans to lure people on campus into giving up any consideration about their digital footprint. But hey, it is the name of the game. Having done internships in social media & marketing, I realize how brutal the friction of a target audience gap can be. It is the one font that is just not quite right, the song that is great, but not great enough for the brand. It makes you want to pull your hair out when the feedback is “just add more flavor, do what you feel would be good for your audience.”Â
So you scroll more, you switch not just accounts but platforms, to hunt down the perfect idea, the perfect editing template that will finally be the breakthrough (only for it to get 115 views later). One really stops to pause and think sometimes whether this chase is the cheapening of one’s creative faculties, or is it really just not that serious to deserve thinkpieces. As I talk more to my peers, the more their bubbling frustration rises to the surface about every content on social media looking the same, sounding the same, just feeling like mindless fluff repackaged and milked to the core. One wonders when the expiration of this milk is due, and when it’s time to farm for new content.
The nature of this field of work percolates. In everyday lingo, in thought processes, and whatnot. Sucking the joy out of silly little capitalistic consumption and thrusting you into being the curator of what to push forth. To microanalyze who you are around. While there is a subtle sense of power in that level of awareness, I’d be lying if I said it isn’t draining sometimes.
So, I log off in protest, draft a shabbily written plea for a break, thinking I am about to start a revolution in my team. Only for my bread-and-butter to ding with another,
“Guys, we need a reel on this trend to go up by 5 PM tomorrow!”
And the notorious marketing neurons fire in my head to get my friends to finally hop onto something embarrassing for the page! So, I press backspace on the draft and begin to pedal through the same cycle of Socials.
Maybe it clocked to you that this article, too, was lowkenuinely goofy ahh ragebait, wasting 6-7 minutes of your time heavyyyy. And if you’re able to read that sentence with a straight face, not horrified at the ridiculous vocabulary, then,Â
Congratulations! You’re the next hire in your nearest socials team on the block. Come with your Canva and VN Portfolios ready; applications close soon. :)