After yet another mishap of mistaken identity today over the social Web, I have decided that I need to investigate turning my own Web site into a clearing house to combat one of the biggest issues facing me today. People thinking I am another Matt Hartley.
Like something out of a bad Sci-Fi movie, people with my name are all around me. My only comfort during this rather disruptive discovery is the knowledge that most of us are doing pretty well for ourselves. I guess it is fair to say, in a “Borg collective” sort of way, Matt Hartley (all of us), rocks!
And that got me thinking. Since I own our Web site namesake anyway, maybe I should start a community for people with this name? Man, how weird would that be? It’s like being Norm at Cheers, but in a creepy, virtual sort of way. Perhaps this is not as good of an idea I had initially thought?
To make matters worse, trying to maintain a successful online presence would be quite problematic. Blog author profiles would be a nightmare as, clearly, we share the same John Hancock. Even trying to do a real life Meetup would be chaos as name tags would instantly be rendered useless, likely bursting into flames upon adhesive application. And don’t even get me started on trying to do a raffle using our own names… wow, that could end badly.
Perhaps instead of using the website to create a community for my name driven brethren, I should instead explore the possibility of creating a pool for our “vast” resources to purchase an island of our very own?
Picture this. Living in a place where you no longer find yourself in that awkward position trying to remember someone’s name as you stand in the grocery checkout stand. Clearly, there is magic to be had here!
And free Wi-Fi. Oh man, sharing Internet has never been so easy! Assuming we could convince a fiber offering ISP to provide services to cover an entire island for one single account holder known appropriately as Matt Hartley, each of us would be able to split down our share of the monthly fee into nothing. Bliss would ensue, storm clouds would vanish and ponies… everyone would get ponies to play with on the beaches covered in golden sand.
All kidding aside, I do find myself wondering why it takes something this elaborate to call attention to something that my own Web site quite clearly states: I am not the Matt Hartley you think I am. I live in Washington State, I am not the brain surgeon, scuba diver, Iron Maiden roadie, hair stylist you went to band camp with in the ’80s.
Seriously, why do I end up with email EVERY DAY with often confidential content to be delivered to another Matt Hartley? Are people really this careless? While I sometimes find it funny and pass it off with a smile, other instances lead me to wondering what the heck?