Writing Boots

On communication, professional and otherwise.

Not all anonymous commenters are creeps, not all byline writers are righteous

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The most popular point of view in the online world is: Anonymous commenters are cowards.

But as with others we dismiss as cowards—suicides, terrorists, playground bullies—it's more complicated than that.

Because not all anonymous comments are hateful, spiteful potshots. Some of them represent thoughtful, painstaking expression.

And just because we can't always fathom the commenter's need for anonymity, doesn't mean the need isn't there.

Some of these anonymous commenters, we heroic for-attribution types ought to acknowledge, are actually pretty sincere in their communication intent.

Because remember, anonymity isn't only an escape from blame; it means you don't get credit, either.

And some of these people want so badly to get their ideas across that they'll do it even if they don't get the credit.

And that's a purer communication motive than I usually have.

What about you?

Transparency … to keep the assholes out

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In hungry anticipation of a family trek to Army & Lou's soul food and southern cooking restaurant on the South Side Saturday morning—we were going down there to visit Jesse Owens' grave for Scout's cockamamie Black History Month project—I checked the restaurant's website.Foodarmyindigosetting

There I found a suitably terrible photograph of the food, along with a series of citizen restaurant reviews.

Most were positive, as you'd expect.

But one reviewer, "Heidi," wrote:

Go when you aren't in a hurry; the service was excruciatingly slooow. I had to ask for silverware, even though bussers were swarming all around. I think it depends on the server; the table near me looked like they were getting excellent service. Ask for corn muffins if they aren't put on the table; they are outstanding.

That didn't discourage me either, as I've been to the place and know that the excruciatingly slow service is an important part of the experience, whether you're south of the Mason-Dixon Line, or just south of Lake Street.

Still, to put a review like that on one's own website is either laughably journalistic or—and I favor this possibility—a clever way to discourage Yuppies-in-a-Hurry from coming to Army & Lou's and screwing everything up.

We usually think of "transparency" as a way to convince our friendly constituents that they can trust us. Smart institutions like Army & Lou's (and Murray's Freelance Writing) also use it to discourage the sorts of people we don't want to do business with.