Tonight I found myself explaining to someone what foursquare is. It's always interesting hearing the explanation to people out of the technotard universe, and in this case, the focus was on marketing:
"It's for people to check in where they are, and as the owner of the business, you have data of who was there, who they are, that kind of thing."
Huh.
Obviously it set off all the lovelies present in a panic over privacy issues, before they were reassured that no, it only gets shared with your friends, unless of course you press the glorious Twitter or Facebook button, or decide to keep your settings way way open. I then admitted that actually, I only check in to places that are fairly open and public and full of people if I'm alone, because, you know, stalkers abound.
Which got me thinking about how much more comfortable I've been checking in since I got to New York rather than back in Melbourne.
I joined foursquare a year ago, right before I departed the island shores. In Oz, checking in at Orange Cafe on a Monday night, in a town that I now view as tiny, meant that the other 37 social media whizkids in Melbourne who also had Foursquare, would know precisely where I am. And who knows, might decide to pay me a visit. So unless I was swarming at the MCG for a football match, I kept it way on the down low.
In NYC, everywhere I go has nineteen people already there, trending places nearby. Why wouldn't I spread the love, and keep a record of where I've been for the evening?
Well, because you could get stalked too... Like the evening I had a few weeks ago, when a friend visiting from Melbourne texted me to meet up. I had my phone open, then another text came, then I went to get a drink, and as you do, closed the text to look at something else - and promptly forgot to reply.
Twenty minutes later, while heading outside to meet a friend who had just arrived, who pulls up in a taxi? Yeah, the new kids on the block. Turns out they'd done a total stalkerazzi on me, in NYC.
What do you reckon? Do you change your checkins based on where you are in the world? Talk to me in my comments, oh reader or two of mine.
Hasta la pasta,
Aussie Girl in NYC
"It's for people to check in where they are, and as the owner of the business, you have data of who was there, who they are, that kind of thing."
Huh.
Obviously it set off all the lovelies present in a panic over privacy issues, before they were reassured that no, it only gets shared with your friends, unless of course you press the glorious Twitter or Facebook button, or decide to keep your settings way way open. I then admitted that actually, I only check in to places that are fairly open and public and full of people if I'm alone, because, you know, stalkers abound.
Which got me thinking about how much more comfortable I've been checking in since I got to New York rather than back in Melbourne.
I joined foursquare a year ago, right before I departed the island shores. In Oz, checking in at Orange Cafe on a Monday night, in a town that I now view as tiny, meant that the other 37 social media whizkids in Melbourne who also had Foursquare, would know precisely where I am. And who knows, might decide to pay me a visit. So unless I was swarming at the MCG for a football match, I kept it way on the down low.
In NYC, everywhere I go has nineteen people already there, trending places nearby. Why wouldn't I spread the love, and keep a record of where I've been for the evening?
Well, because you could get stalked too... Like the evening I had a few weeks ago, when a friend visiting from Melbourne texted me to meet up. I had my phone open, then another text came, then I went to get a drink, and as you do, closed the text to look at something else - and promptly forgot to reply.
Twenty minutes later, while heading outside to meet a friend who had just arrived, who pulls up in a taxi? Yeah, the new kids on the block. Turns out they'd done a total stalkerazzi on me, in NYC.
What do you reckon? Do you change your checkins based on where you are in the world? Talk to me in my comments, oh reader or two of mine.
Hasta la pasta,
Aussie Girl in NYC
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