Thursday afternoon, I was over the moon. My boss, Mr. David Scott Portnoy started following me on both Twitter and Instagram.
This was an honor considering he does not follow just anyone. Not only do I respect this man, he’s also my hero. Which is why I was so devastated this morning when I found out that just five days later, I had been unfollowed.
Needless to say, it was a tough way to start my Monday morning.
I was getting ready for work and my mother texted me out of nowhere: Why isn’t Dave following you anymore?
Panic and fear filled my tiny brain as I processed this information. I was already having post weekend regret and this news was the ultimate kicker.
I immediately started thinking about all the nonsensical things I filled my story with in the last 72 hours. Scared to look, I opened Instagram and began to look through my archive.
With every scroll, I cringed a little more. It took about 3 seconds for me to understand why I copped an unfollow. The shit I post on the weekend is borderline brutal.
But, I couldn’t help but wonder WHICH post got me booted from such a selective following. It truly could have been any of them. I assumed I’d never truly know the answer and just have to live with this for the rest of my time here.
With worry on my mind, I continued my commute to work. I walked into the office with my head down, planning to write this very post when I was greeted by DP himself.
“I had to unfollow you O’Malley. I like you guys and if I keep following you on Instagram I’ll just grow to hate you, and I don’t want to.”
“Fair enough.” I agreed. I fully respect his decision to even bring it up in person. Most people will just unfollow without ever having the decency to admit it. But, I still didn’t know what it was that made him unfollow.
As the conversation progressed I thanked him for those special five days he so graciously gifted me and he gave me the answer I so desperately needed.
He didn’t want to see any more “baby birding.” Completely and 100% fair. I’m ashamed and embarrassed of my digital footprint this past weekend. It cost me a follow from a man I admire.
Many of the gals who follow me on social media are a fan of the “baby bird” and have followed suit in the movement. I even planned to coin the term “baby bird summer” and capitalize on it with merchandise. I now see that it’s fucking disgusting and I will now have to retire the bit.
I suppose the lesson here is; admit when you’re gross and learn from it.
I hope to one day win both the respect and follow on Instagram from my boss in the future. Time heals all wounds. In the meantime, I will hold onto that Twitter follow for dear life.
(Dave if you’re reading this, thanks for everything and I’m sorry for my feral actions.)