Once upon a time, in a land far away to the west, there lived a Geneablogger who lived in a small but peaceful kingdom on the shore of a beautiful bay. One day, while walking through a green, green meadow on the outskirts of the kingdom, a little bird named Auntialias flew up to the geneablogger’s ear and twittered, “Geneablogger! Geneablogger! Did you know that the rulers of the kingdom of Facebook think your blog is abusive? When I tried to follow a link on Facebook to your site, I received this message!”
With that, Auntialias dropped a file into the Geneablogger’s hands and then gingerly alit on his shoulder, waiting to see how he would react to the message. The Geneablogger, enormously perplexed, gingerly opened the letter, and this is what he saw:
“Egad!” exclaimed the Geneablogger in astonishment. “How can this be? I must posthaste log onto my Facebook account and try to discover what is going on!”
With lightning speed, the Geneablogger opened a browser window, typed in the URL for Facebook, and entered his login credentials. But, alas! Facebook returned a message that his Email/Password combination was incorrect! The Geneablogger, sweat now dripping from his brow, clicked on the link to reset his password but, to his dismay, his efforts were rewarded with an even more disheartening message:
The little bird, still on the Geneablogger’s shoulder, gasped in horror! “Oh my! Oh my! Whatever will you do? Your honor has been challenged! You must do all you can to restore your reputation, Geneablogger!” And with that, the little bird flew away, still chattering to herself, “Oh my! Oh my!”
The Geneablogger, clearly shaken by this sudden turn of events, immediately followed the instructions in the message to contact email@example.com and ask why his domain was reported as abusive. All he could do then was wait for the rulers of Facebook to help him. But no help came.
The Geneablogger wrote to the rulers of Facebook again and again, but the rulers of Facebook never responded.
Six long weeks passed. Still unable to log into his Facebook account, the Geneablogger grew more and more concerned. He was still receiving friend requests, invitations to events, and even personal email messages through Facebook, but he was unable to log into his account to respond to any of them.
Finally, he decided to call the rulers of Facebook by telephone. But, woe and more woe, the Facebook phone number lead him only to a voice message that said that Facebook did not provide customer support by telephone.
“But lo!” exclaimed the Geneablogger. “The Facebook castle is just down the road from here! I can ride my trusty steed to speak to the Facebook rulers in person.” And so he did.
Upon arriving at the Facebook castle, the Geneablogger was stopped by three young guards at the castle gate. None of the three appeared to be old enough to be out of their parents’ care, much less guarding the gates of the castle. Nevertheless, the Geneablogger approached the guards, explaining his predicament and entreating the guards to help him.
The only response of the guards, however, was that he should complete a form and describe his grievance.
After returning to his home by the beautiful bay, the Geneablogger waited and waited for help from the Facebook rulers. But, still, no help came.
Two months after he first wrote to the Facebook rulers, the Geneablogger decided to ride to the Facebook castle once again. Upon approaching the castle gate, the Geneablogger noticed that the three guards he saw on his first visit were no longer there, and he recoiled in terror at the thought of what horrible fate must have befallen the three who had previously guarded the castle gate.
Three new guards stood at the castle gate, and the Geneablogger begged these new guards for assistance. He asked if he could see someone in person who might be able to help, but he was told that there was no customer service at that castle. The Geneablogger asked if there was another castle in the realm where he might be able to speak to customer service, but he was told there was not. The Geneablogger asked if there was a phone number or an email address to a real person who might be able to help him but, once again, he was told there was not.
The Geneablogger rode away from the castle of Facebook, dejected and defeated. The faceless rulers of Facebook didn’t seem to care about their users.
Soon after returning home, the Geneablogger decided to check his blog for new comments. To his horror, after entering the URL for his blog, a red box appeared with the following message from McAfee Site Advisor:
“Even McAfee Site Advisor is warning people away from my blog! Will this horror never end?” the Geneablogger wailed. Now, with a new challenge to his blog’s reputation, he sent an email message to McAfee Site Advisor, appealing to the rulers of the Kingdom of McAfee for aid.
The very next day, a representative from the Kingdom of McAfee answered the Geneablogger’s entreaty, stating that “SiteAdvisor engineers will look into your issue, and will issue a change if it is deemed appropriate.” And the message was signed by a real person, not just a faceless nonentity!
To the Geneablogger’s further amazement, just two days after his original supplication for aid, the rulers of McAfee wrote to him again, stating that “SiteAdvisor senior engineers have cleared this domain for a green Web safety rating switch.”
The Geneablogger sighed with relief. In just two days, the rulers of the Kingdom of McAfee had solved his problem with McAfee Site Advisor, and had sent him two messages signed by a real person.
“If only the faceless rulers of Facebook cared about their users as much as the rulers of McAfee do,” mused the Geneablogger. “Perhaps, in the future, I should associate with those rulers and kingdoms who care about the well-being of their subjects and avoid those who who do not.”
Copyright © 2010 by Stephen J. Danko