Thoughts on Online Rants

I was talking to a friend of mine yesterday, and she told me how her small business had recently been the target of a rather vicious (and untrue) Facebook rant. The ranter had been given some information, which turned out to not even be true, and rather than seeking her out to settle the matter privately or (gasp) verifying the information for accuracy, the person just took to Facebook with  scathing words. My friend was sad, and I could tell her mind's wheels were turning through the various paths of damage control.

Online rants make me sad. I know writing a blog post about "why you shouldn't do it" is unlikely to change anyone's mind, so I'm not doing that. I'm just writing about why I have chosen the path I have regarding online rants.

1. It's not the reputation I want to have.

When I post to Facebook or any other form of social media (including this blog), I want to be known as the girl who posts encouraging words, funny stories, or a peek into real life. I have chronic-rant-loving friends, and to be truthful, when I see a long post from them, I brace myself before even peeking at the first sentence. I know it's likely to be a rant because of the name attached. That's not what I want people to think of first when they see my name.

2. If I must tell a story, I try to leave out identifying details.

Back when I had my gallbladder removed, I had a dizzying whirl of are-you-stinking-kidding-me-right-now? adventures with the health care industry. DAYS of blog fodder from the simplest of appointments. And I told most of them right here on this blog. But as I did, I did my best to leave out any and all information that could point to a specific business establishment or any specific employee. Again, my goal was to tell a story (and most were so ridiculous they were hysterical), not to drag businesses through the mud.

3. I'm probably not going to reverse a decision, so is there a way I can address the problem in any productive manner?

Earlier this week, I stumbled upon a change in policy of a website I use. What used to be free now comes with a price tag. To be fair, the price isn't outrageous, and I might even go so far as to call it reasonable. What was outrageous to me was the fact that they changed the policy with absolutely no warning. I went on Twitter to see what people were saying, and my eyebrows flew straight to the ceiling reading some of the colorful rants thrown at the company from disgruntled customers. (And they were plentiful, let me tell you.)

It's clear the company is not going to say, "Oh, you know what? We made a mistake. We should go back to being free. Thanks for pointing that out to us!" Tweeting about how horrible they are and how I can never recommend them again is pointless. But the manner in which they went about their policy change was bothersome enough to me that I felt I needed to voice something. So I emailed them privately, thanked them for their great product, explained how long I had been using it, and even said I understood the need for the change. But I added that a heads up would have been helpful, because as a single-income household, adding to our monthly budget is something we really need to plan for.

I received a standard, pre-packaged answer, but I feel good about my decision to handle the matter privately with them and address something they could perhaps consider in the future (offering a heads-up) rather than bashing a business decision I know I have no hope of changing.

4. These people are real people with real feelings.

This has become more and more apparent to me as I read Instagram posts by the Duggar girls. As I have mentioned before, it doesn't seem to matter what they post about, they're immediately slaughtered by about half the commenters. Last week one of them posted a picture of her husband grilling steaks at home, and the commenters were angry that they dared to spend money on a steak while raising money for missions. Sigh. I know I don't want my every move picked apart, so why pick apart everyone else? On the other side of the social media account, they are real people with real feelings, which makes them just like me.

5. I can vent to Ryan for a whole lot less drama than I can vent to the world.

Just because I don't rant online doesn't mean I don't get mad about things I read or that I don't have a rant in me that needs to come out. But when that moment comes, I try to just unload to Ryan in the privacy of our living room. All the pent-up pressure escapes from my head, he understands my frustration, and I don't have to risk offending a whole host of people (some of whom I may not even know) in the process.

6. When in doubt, delete.

A few times, I've posted things to Facebook and then wondered if I really should have said what I did. I've learned if I question it, I should probably delete it. I've also been known to delete things if (after a couple of comments) people seem to be misinterpreting my delivery and/or my humor. It's not that I can't take opposition, although it's true I'm not super wild about debates. It's just that I don't want to risk offending over silly matters, and if it appears I'm doing just that, I want to remove it. 


So that's what I try to do. Life can be cumbersome at times. I hope the words I say push people more toward hope than frustration.


(As a disclaimer, a rant is different than sharing an opinion or belief when you feel it needs to be voiced. Those can be shared in productive ways, and if you feel convicted to do so, you should. Rants tend to be much more disorganized and lack effective purpose.)