What Makes a Great Online Community Manager?

When I first donned the title in early 2008, "Community Manager" was still a relatively new term -- so new, in fact, that when I asked for a job description prior to accepting the position, my soon-to-be-boss had to do quite a bit of research before he could formulate a cohesive definition. It isn't that the community management didn't exist until that point; it was simply known by other names, often a smaller responsibility of someone in a different department (for example, marketing).

As the web becomes increasingly social, of course, that can no longer stand. Just in the last year, the demand for (and awareness of) community managers has exploded. As Mashable author Meghan Peters put it in her recent piece, 4 Community Management Predictions for 2012:

Community management, an industry still in its infancy, came a long way in 2011. Many businesses no longer ask “What does a community manager do, and do I need one?” but rather “What makes a great community manager, and when can I hire one?”

While I can't tell you when you can hire a great community manager (after all, I won't be on the market for a while...), I can shed some light on the first part of the question. What makes a really kickass community manager fabulous at the job? I've come to believe it takes a very particular kind of person to survive--let alone excel--in this profession. Unfortunately, it's not as simple as being friendly and moderately tech-savvy.

The Anatomy of a Good Community Manager

From head to toe:

• Farsightedness - What you do online today affects you (and your brand) tomorrow. A great community manager looks ahead, evaluating potential consequences before acting, and sets aside knee-jerk reactions in favor of measured responses.


• Sharp nose - Nose, intuition... Call it what you will, where the internet is concerned, the ability to sniff out a rat is indispensable. Even with all the back-end tools available to you, there will be times when the evidence is inconclusive and a judgment call has to be made. In these moments, a good BS-o-meter is all you've got.


• Silver tongue - Much of a community manager's duties center around communication, both internal (with team members and other departments) and user-facing (both on- and off-site). Delivering information clearly and concisely is important, as is the tone in which it's imparted.


• Six arms - "Oh, come on! I've only got two hands!" just ain't gonna cut it. Multitasking is not optional. As community manager, you need to be in six places at once. Not only that, but you need to be doing six different things in those six different places. Someone who needs to work on a task start-to-finish before moving on to the next one simply isn't going to make it.


• Strong stomach - Even if you don't work at a user-generated content site like HubPages, you're bound to see (and read) some graphic nastiness in this occupation. You need an iron constitution so you can handle anything that's thrown your way, from 1000-word expletive-filled rants against your person to explicit images of sex and violence, without losing your lunch. Leading us to...


• Thick skin - When you become a community manager, you lose the privilege to give as good as you get. You'll still get plenty -- plenty of insults, accusations, threats, conspiracy theories -- but unless you can let it all roll off your back, you appear unprofessional and waste time that could be spent on something else. ("Oh come on! I only have six hands!")


• Sea legs - Things change quickly on the interwebs. It can be dizzying and downright disorienting, but you need to keep your feet. A combination of self-confidence and flexibility is priceless in times of upheaval and crisis (which, believe me, will come).


• Clown shoes - Okay, okay, so it's not really a part of your body, but this final ingredient is one of the most important: a sense of humor. In this line of work, you're not getting out alive unless you can laugh -- at yourself when you make mistakes, at difficult users you have no chance of pleasing, at the absurdity of the situations in which you find yourself. But silliness serves an even greater purpose. The internet can be cold and impersonal. Humor is one of the most effective ways of cutting through the computer screen and connecting to each other. And that is, after all, the whole point of being a community manager.

Clipper Card Discloses 1700+ Customer Email Addresses

This morning, I logged in to an email from Clipper warning me that the credit card I use for auto-load is expiring in December. I might appreciate the gesture, given all the crap I went through trying to change my billing information earlier this year, except for one thing: the email addresses for the other 1700+ customers who received this email were all plainly visible.

This is a huge security breach from a company that already has its fair share of problems. A round of angry "reply alls" ensued, other customers calling to be credited, complaining of billing woes (like my own), and that Clipper cards only work half the time. My favorite:

CC to a 1,764 'secure' emails? Really? Welcome to 1995. Good job.

As of this writing, no statement from Clipper, or even a customary apology on the email thread, with a promise to investigate the situation. Yet another customer service fail.

Self Esteem Junkies: Gen Y and Social Networking

Forget artificial intelligence. When I worry about technology taking over the world, I worry about artificial self esteem.

Gen Y has been called the "self esteem generation," and for good reason: a recent study found that we prefer receiving self-esteem boosts (such as compliments) over sex, food, and money. Maybe that's a good thing, considering many are broke and living at home. A feature on the predicament of twenty-somethings in New York Magazine on Sunday laid out these statistics:

Nearly 14 percent of college graduates from the classes of 2006 through 2010 can’t find full-time work, and overall just 55.3 percent of people ages 16 to 29 have jobs. That’s the lowest percentage since World War II, as you might have heard an Occupy Wall Street protester point out. (Not coincidentally, one in five young adults now lives below the poverty line.) Almost a quarter more people ages 25 to 34—in other words, people who should be a few years into their independent lives—are living with their parents than at the beginning of the recession.

There's a disconnect here, right? On the one hand, our generation has shattered all records for high self-esteem, according to the traditional measuring methods. On the other, it sure doesn't look like most of us are actually achieving very much, by traditional (ie, cultural) standards. So how are we filling that gap? I believe, in many cases, the answer lies on the internet.

So you pushed yourself through high school to get into a good college. You pushed yourself through college to get your degree. You come out on the other side only to find a recession in full-swing, and a million other 20-somethings just like you chasing down the same scant jobs there are to be had, with [mostly irrelevant] degrees flapping uselessly in their hands. The normal sources of self-esteem aren't available to you. You're not bringing home a big paycheck. If you do manage to secure a job, it probably isn't very fulfilling. It's starting to look like you aren't that special after all.

Enter virtual achievement and artificial self esteem. Virtual achievement: Okay, so you're not bringing home a big paycheck, but you can get to level 42 on Farmville. You can have 800 friends on Facebook. Your Klout score just went up by 2 points. Artificial self esteem: Okay, so your job (if you're lucky enough to have one) isn't fulfilling and you don't feel like you're making a difference. But if someone retweets you or +1's your blog post, you feel important and seen.

I'm not saying this is unequivocally bad. Low self esteem wreaks havoc on motivation, so if social networking keeps you feeling good enough about yourself that you get up and look for a job every morning instead of dissolving into the couch, that's great. On the other hand, I'm concerned that this type of activity could actually supersede real-life action and achievement. I think for too many people, it already has.

Image courtesy of GOIABA

Netflix Nixes Qwikster - Is Reed Hastings Next?

Today, Netflix customers received an email recanting CEO Reed Hastings' announcement that they would split DVD and streaming products into two separate brands: Netflix and Qwikster. According to the email, "...for many of our members two websites would make things more difficult, so we are going to keep Netflix as one place to go for streaming and DVDs."

My first instinct was to write a tongue-in-cheek follow up to my original post about the Netflix/Qwikster split, implying Reed was taking my advice. But then it struck me. While the original email and blog post announcing the change came directly from Mr. Hastings. This email is signed, mysteriously, "The Netflix Team."

Does this mean Reed's locked himself up in his ivory tower, refusing to eat humble pie? Or could it mean something more ominous for him? Could he be on his way out, for this mistake? I wouldn't be surprised. Netflix has lost a lot of customer trust in the last year, and as CEO, Reed Hastings is the appropriate guy to take the fall. I would have expected the "We're sorry, we were wrong" messaging to come directly from him, since he's already in the habit of apologizing. The fact that it doesn't makes me think they're setting him up for a bigger fall... say, from the heights of his corner office to the pool of the unemployed below.

It would be a smart PR move, I say. What do you think? Is Hastings to blame? Would his ousting restore some customer trust?

What Happened to "The Show Must Go On?" - CalShakes "Shrew" Rained Out

I don't get out much. No, really. Chronic pain puts a serious damper on your social life... and work life... and just life in general. Last night, three of us braved two sardine-style packed BART trains and a picnic in the rain to see California Shakespeare Festival's "Taming of the Shrew." We were in pretty good spirits. The land on which the Bruns Memorial Amphitheatre sits is a watershed, and is just as beautiful wet as dry. We shared a bottle of wine and a delicious chèvre under the dripping eucalyptus, spied an owl in the trees above, and made ready to hunker down in the theater with our winter coats and a big fleece blanket. But it was not to be.

After standing by the theater doors for half an hour waiting for them to open the house, with no announcements or updates from staff, we were told the performance would be cancelled and to collect a voucher good for a ticket in the same section to another performance of the show... which only runs for another week. I've got a couple of issues, here.

Now, CalShakes is a non-profit organization. I completely understand that it's difficult for them to give refunds. My issue is not with the voucher, it's that it's essentially only good for another 10 days. It's the last show of the season, and seating is limited. Luckily, the members of my party are all free next Wednesday, and luckily, there is availability in the same section on that night--probably because we were in the cheap seats to start with. But what about the season ticket holders, who will be forced to take seats with an inferior view, if they get seats at all? What if we're rained out again next week? So late in the run, vouchers should be good not only for this show, but for next season as well. That's gripe #1.

Gripe #2 has to do with a lack of clear messaging and communication. This is always a pet peeve of mine, as we saw in my rant about Clipper Card's customer service. Today, of course, there are several prominent links on the CalShakes website regarding their rain policy, but I didn't see them yesterday when I looked before leaving the house. Then, there was absolutely zero communication with the crowd that stood in the rain for 30 minutes waiting to be seated. Clearly, not everyone who'd bought a ticket showed up, but those of us who did deserved a little more courtesy. If they'd made an announcement that they were waiting to see if the drizzle let up, and otherwise the performance would be cancelled, I'm sure at least half of us would have left right then, considering that the self-same drizzle had been going on for hours.

And maybe I'm old-fashioned, but I agree with the elderly gentleman seated next to my other half on the shuttle back to the BART station: What ever happened to "the show must go on?" As I pointed out, in Shakespeare's day, the expression was "to hear a play," not "to see a play." If they're worried about falling, why couldn't the actors stand in one place on stage and give us an animated vocal performance? We were all willing to brave wet butts and soggy coats for them. Throw on a slicker, and give me the same consideration.

The whole experience brought to mind another "Taming of the Shrew" years ago. I must have been in high school. My family had had season tickets to CalShakes since I was a tiny girl, and we'd never missed a performance. The weather was threatening, but we bundled up and braved it. At intermission, it began to shower. They held the second act until it let up, but a few minutes in, it started coming down again. Most of the audience left, but the actors put clear ponchos over their costumes, reduced their movement, and continued the play. I remember Sharon Lockwood, as Gremio, carrying a goofy umbrella. By curtain call, my family made up four of the half-dozen who'd stuck it out. We gave the cast a standing ovation. They applauded us right back. It was one of the most unique and rewarding theater-going experiences of my teenage years. Last night could have been just as unique, just as rewarding. Instead, it was an epic disappointment.

My partner, my friend, and I will return next week to see "Shrew." I'll psych myself up to leave the house, I'll suffer the rush-hour BART ride. We'll have some more wine, some more cheese, and we'll enjoy the show. But even if it's the best performance in the world, I'll still have some regret and resentment about last night. I just hope it doesn't rain.

Product Disintegration: Netflix and Qwikster Miss The Trick

Just when you thought they couldn't get any more stupid...

NFLX stock plummeted after the announcement in July that Netflix would separate streaming and DVD into two separate plans, effectively charging customers more for their existing subscriptions. Once at almost $305/share, by close on Friday, NFLX was worth about half of that -- a mere $155.19. As of this writing, it's dropped further to hover around $143, and in light of last night's events, it doesn't take a Wall Street broker to predict that for Netflix, it's only downhill from here.

NFLX stock prices from mid-June to today, Sept 19 2011

Last night, around 9 pm, CEO Reed Hastings sent out an email and posted a blog apologizing to customers for his arrogance and lack of communication... but not for the actions that are estimated to lose them 1 million users by the end of the year. Instead, he laid out plans to rebrand the DVD-only plan under the name Qwikster. This means a new website, a new movie queue, and a separate credit card charge. In other words, it means pissing people off.

Mr. Hastings, I'm glad to see you're eating that humble pie, but next time try a side of common sense. In a market where companies are increasingly striving for more product integration (Facebook connect, "sign in with Twitter," universal Google accounts), what would inspire you to break up a well-recognized brand? Netflix is now going to ask customers to log into two separate websites, keep two separate queues, and potentially lose hundreds or thousands of the movie ratings that dictate recommendations. Not to mention the choice of name, which recalls the late-90's trend of the ubiquitous suffix "-ster," at the same time evoking images of the corner liquor store with the prefix "qwik." And never mind that they didn't have the foresight to check into potential branding problems, like the Twitter handle @Qwikster, whose tweets are full of profanity and revolve around getting high.

Streaming is the future of Netflix. I don't think anybody with half a brain is arguing that. Companies need to focus on digital delivery of content, or they'll go the way of bookstores like Borders. Hastings explained that streaming and DVD delivery are “quite different businesses with very different cost structures, different benefits that need to be marketed differently, and we need to let each grow and operate independently.” But he's going about it in entirely the wrong way. Netflix streaming is not a complete service by itself. It's currently a supplement. You can't get most new releases via streaming, and browsing the options you do have is laborious. As a consumer, if you're going to charge me more for streaming movies, I want to know that you're planning on improving both the selection and the interface. Until you do make those improvements, I need the DVD service... and I shouldn't have to pay extra for it. Now, with the announcement that these will now be completely different services, Netflix has again jumped the gun. You need to create a complete service before you can market it independently.

Almost a year ago, I posted about when a brand should backpedal, arguing that many companies make an about-face too quickly due to the instant feedback the internet provides. Here is a notable exception. This is not something as simple as a logo change, which is more a matter of taste and does not effect product functionality. This is not something to which customers will become accustomed. This is a change which damages brand recognition, damages trust, and damages user experience. Now is the time to backpedal, and fast.

To See, or Say You Saw? - Musings on Museum Behavior

I love art. I love museums. But I do not love your average museum-goer.

Yesterday, my sister published a piece on museum admission prices, the very day that I took in the Picasso exhibit at the De Young, where general admission is $25 a head. While the exhibit itself was stimulating (though I have a few bones to pick with the curator), the gallery crowd got on my nerves, and not just because of its size.

It's always a problem, with a big-name artist: lots of people go just to say they went. With Picasso, this issue seemed to be magnified to the nth degree, because his work can be so difficult to absorb. I first noticed it as I stood for a good 5 minutes in front of "Musicien assis" (which translates as "seated musician"), pictured right. As I let the sketch soak in, I became aware that everyone around me was giving it a cursory glance and moving on.

When I experience art, it is the pieces that are hard to wrap my mind around that I enjoy most. But as I moved through the galleries, paying more attention to the behavior of the other visitors, I was reminded that this is the opposite attitude to most museum patrons. They come to see the famous pieces--the ones they recognize. They'll look at "problematic" pieces, as long as they recognize them. They'll look at pieces they don't recognize, as long as they're not difficult to take in. But if it's not famous, and it's not obvious, it's not worth looking at.

My friend Kay, my mother, and my better half were with me. When I shared my thoughts, my partner chimed in that he had heard several people commenting on the lovely picture frames. Picture frames? There are 6 rooms of Picassos around you, and you're looking at the picture frames? Kay then told me about a trip to a museum in Barcelona, where she observed visitors pausing in front of the art only as long as it took to take a photo. This kind of stuff boggles my mind. Nobody wants to see your amateur pictures of art, when there are hundreds of websites selling quality prints online.

Maybe my memory's faulty, but I think these visitors were more the exception than the norm when I was growing up. But increasingly (and I think social networking websites are partly to blame for this), people are doing things more for the documentation than for the experience. So next time you're thinking of going to a museum just to say you went, do me a favor. Save yourself the $25, and go only as far as the gift shop. From there, you can check in on FourSquare and Facebook, buy yourself a couple of postcards, and you've as good as gone.