On the third morning in a row, Ben was sitting across from Michael waiting for the three new “killer updates” of the day. When Michael delivered them with his usual professionalism, Ben was taken aback. All of them were really well-crafted, first-class status updates. None of them deserved to be left out. So he decided to use each of them at different times. He praised the quality of those “wicked” updates and told Michael he was going to use all of them. Michael replied with a slightly annoyed, “That’s fine.” He was wondering whether that was a subtle way of getting rid of him for the next couple of days. While Michael was mulling over his future earnings with his best client, Ben hit the share button and shot the update into the Facebooksphere mimicking the sound of a missile launch with his mouth. Then, as usual, they sipped their coffees silently staring at their laptop screens.

Thirty minutes had already gone and not a single like had rolled in. Ben was a little worried, but Michael assured him there was nothing to worry about, some updates took more time than others to take off. After one hour, there were just four likes. Ben was disappointed at the outcome of that first update and started tapping nervously on the table waiting for a new wave of likes. Michael didn’t wait to hear his client’s complaints, and explained, “Some status updates are more refined and target top-notch audiences that might not be online in the first hours of life of that post. In that case,” explained Michael in a stentorian voice, “it’s necessary to switch to another update; that’s why it’s important to have a three-updates kit at the beginning of a new social media day.”

Ben nodded , by now enthralled by the social media wizard sitting in front of him , and clicked on the second browser window showing his profile page with status update number two ready to be launched . Then he hit the share button with a knowing expression. After thirty minutes, the notifications icon hadn’t shown any sign of life. Ben raised his head from the screen towards Michael’s face trying to meet his eyes, but he pretended not to see him. When the fortieth minute struck,

Ben started, opened the third browser page and hit the third share button beside the third “killer status update.” Michael kept his eyes on the screen of his laptop. Ben leaned back in the chair, took his mug and sipped some more coffee. After another thirty minutes, Ben was looking dumbfounded at his Facebook profile: not a friggin’ like and not a bloody comment , he thought. “What the hell is going on today?” he said, glancing at Michael. “You’re trying too hard and people have noticed it. It’s not going to work,” remarked Michael laconically.

Ben shot him a toxic glare: “You have guaranteed to deliver killer updates! I need likes on a daily basis! Where are my likes, today?” shouted Ben.

“As I said, you’re not going to get any today. When you post three killer updates in a row without any success, you come across as pushy and desperate for attention. And nobody is willing to give any attention to someone who openly shows he is desperate for it.”

Ben stared at Michael as if he had been speaking to Mother Teresa until a minute ago who now turned out to be Charles Manson in disguise.