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It’s called Facebook, not Faced-Book

by Eve Tahmincioglu

Before the Internet and social networking sites, a drunken night at home was not dangerous to your career.

You had the telephone to dial up family and friends and say stupid things because you were tipsy, and maybe you’d bug a neighbor or two. It was unlikely you’d call your manager or the head of your company, because most underlings didn’t have their home phone numbers. And even if you wrote a letter trashing everyone at work, the morning would bring with it sobriety and clarity and most people would have dumped the note in the garbage.

Oh how tame the world was back then. Now, having that third glass of wine, or bottle of beer could turn into career suicide.

I was having dinner with some savvy professional women recently, and they told me about a women who had been laid off from their company. Both the women I was dining with were managers, and had worked closely with this unemployed individual. That’s why both women accepted a friend request from her on Facebook, and were happy to do so.

That is, until the sloshed nights. This poor jobless women was constantly commenting on Facebook, and on many nights the comments got more and more over the top.

She trashed her former employer and made inappropriate comments on almost every topic, and it clearly seemed booze inspired.

One of my dining companions said she started hiding this woman’s comments because they were getting so bad.

Questions: Do you think anyone following her on Facebook will ever recommend her for a job? Do you think any of her comments will ever surface when she’s looking for a gig and a hiring manager does some cyber sleuthing on her?

This is why you don’t drink and drive the Internet folks. Please, please, please.

It’s Friday and the night will soon be upon us. I know many of you may have had a bad week want to release some steam. Maybe you hate your boss, or your job-searching efforts this week didn’t go so well.

Full disclosure here: I have tweeted on occasion when I had a glass of wine or two, and I regretted it.

Like this decision to retweet a tweet about a bacon bra: you are sick to the end/girlfriend RT @jenny8lee a bacon bra. gives new definition to “meat market!” http://bit.ly/9WwGF

I even posted this on Facebook, photo and all. UGH.

Time for true confessions. What did you do online after you had a few too many?


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