Long ago I began a love affair with bumper stickers. Not that my car is adorned with some fan favorites such as these:

• Wrinkled was not one of the things I wanted to be when I grew up.
• So many stupid people and so few asteroids.
• Never believe generalizations.
• Avoid alliterations always.
• Dyslexics are teople poo.
• On your mark, get set, go away!
• I didn’t climb to the top of the food chain to become a vegetarian!
• I am not infantile, you stinky poopyhead.
• I have a degree in Liberal Arts – do you want fries with that?
• Does the name Pavlov ring a bell?
• My mother is a travel agent for guilt trips.
• Stress is when you wake up screaming and you realize you weren’t asleep.
• Nice perfume. Must you marinate in it?
• The last thing I want to do is hurt you. But it’s still on the list.
• The trouble with the gene pool is that there’s no lifeguard.
• Without ME, it’s just AWESO.
• Honk if you want to see my finger.
• As long as there are tests, there will be prayer in public schools.
• Your kid may be an Honor Student, but YOU’RE still an idiot.
• Women who seek to be equal with men lack ambition.
• To err is human but to blame it on somebody else shows management potential.
• Watch out for the idiot behind me.
• All men are idiots … I married their king.
• Earth is full. Go home.
• All I ask is the chance to prove that money can’t make me happy.
• My wife keeps complaining I never listen to her (or something like that).
• What if the hokey pokey is really what it’s all about?

But the one that still causes me to tilt my head Golden Retriever style is this one:

Sentiments such as these spawned the social movements of the late 60s, early 70s when material belongings were jettisoned in favor of more simple lifestyles. Then came Gordon Gecko…

Jump ahead to the present day…all kids are multitasking perfectionists, social media trumps world peace and a lagging economy, exercise is derided because it keeps one offline, and it seems as if everyone wants their 15 minutes of fame to be influential, a thought leader, a guru, or an expert. 24 year-old guys wearing skinny jeans, Randy Jackson glasses , and untied Converse sneakers are lauded across all media channels for being insightful about the human condition while most of their gal counterparts view themselves as trend leaders (they are also said to “[consume] new media” which accounts for why they look so freakin’ unhealthy – I mean eat some real food and not this vegan crap).

Despite the need to align themselves with things authentic (whatever the heck this is), a disturbing Gekko-like trend is that a by-product of consuming all  this social media is my sense that despite all their self-professed social and environmental awareness, and need to be authentic, this is what drives them:

Yep, status…

If status weren’t important, why does media quote a Twitters number of followers – does what’s-his-face versus CNN ring a bell?

I noticed it back at #connectHR in DC a few weeks back: The status-cravers would strain to read a person’s Twitter handle on the name tag and when recognized would practically gush with “Oh, we’re following each other!” Know what the old farts did? Stuck out their hand and said, “Hi, my name is Steve, what’s yours?”

Next TweetUp I attend, I’m going to write my handle on the tag followed by 452,672 in bold red underneath.

Bumper stickers…