What would you do if a bank you were standing in were to be held up?
Would your loins twitch a little? Would your palms pour water like a fountain at the Bellagio?
Or would you whip out your BlackBerry and twitter?
I only ask because Tuesday, according to the Associated Press, Annemarie Dooling was in an HSBC bank in Manhattan when someone decided to hold it up.
Perhaps it was something to do with the fact that on her Twitter feed she describes herself as "Jet setting, Manhattan drinking, design obsessed sicko; producer for a talk show website", Dooling thought she'd make use of her BlackBerry, with which she happened to be fiddling at the time.
In one tweet, Dooling said everyone in the bank was discussing this movie.
(Credit: CC Loufi/Flickr)Yes, she thought it might be fun to twitter the whole experience.
"My bank was just held up _ with me in it. HSBC 34 and 8," she offered to her then 1,900 followers.
She added: "Also my whole trackball is GONE!!! I'm locked in the bank still."
Strangely, some people thought she should have been doing something a little more civic-minded. But in a subsequent e-mail to the AP, she explained: "Honestly, the cops were called and everyone was safe and my main concern was reaching out to my friends, fam, and co-workers, which is why I tweeted."
And her tweets continued to be informative. For example: "no i didnt hit the floor. i didnt even notice and he was two people in front of me."
They even became amusing: "cops just said 'wouldnt it be boring if they all did it the same way?' ha. just let me out, Paul Blart."
This was New York, however, so it wasn't long before the critics began tweeting daggers: "someone on Gothamist just told me to fall down a man hole. geez, get a life, buddy."
Which might just have been a witless reference to the teen girl from Staten Island who texted her way into a manhole.
Though not all of Dooling's tweets were well-received, I feel desolate in telling you that the robber got away.
Bankers are finding it hard to get a little love these days. Their spouses offer a cold shoulder. Their relatives, a cold consomme. Their golden retrievers, cold comfort.
As they spend their lonely nights sipping their VSOP and trying to make an online appointment at the Emperor's Club, perhaps they might slide over to Facebook just for moment.
Facebook, like the odd banker or two, makes a mess of things sometimes. But there is a certain sweetness in the way in which the company's upper echelons sometimes remember who their customers are. And, perhaps even more importantly, how they like to be spoken to.
Inviting Facebook members to get involved in the decision-making surrounding the Terms of Service might seem naive to some. But perhaps it's a sign of how corporations might govern in a future that is nearer than national calamity.
Please imagine (oh, go on- reality is so ugly these days) that you're at a board meeting of the fictional Bank of Righteousness. Strategy is being discussed. A man with hair even shinier than his suit declares that they are going into the sub-prime mortgage market with gusto. Because there's no way they can go busto.
He explains that some of the customers might not be fiscally sound, but that they should be able to sell the mortgages on before the debt hits the fan.
A spiky-haired man at the end of the table wearing a Motorhead t-shirt and someone else's goatee offers: "Whoa there. Why don't we check with our customers how they feel about this?"
Everyone fills their mouths with the most refined oral juices, but Ronnie, the new Head of Cybercommunication, is the Chairman's son-in-law. So they sit, rather than spit.
The next day a cybercommunication goes out to customers of the Bank of Righteousness: "Hey, how's it going? We just wanted to run this one by you. We're thinking of giving mortgages to some folks who might not strictly, you know, have the cash to pay for them. Because, you know, we think the good times are going to last forever and we're all going to be millionaires."
It continues: "So we just wondered what you guys might think about all this. It's a bit of a risk, but not really that much. At least we don't think it is. Drop us a note on our Facebook page or Tweet your feelings. Thanks. Your buddies at B of R. "
Alright, perhaps that's a little informal. But banks have been tending towards cuddly informal communication for years. And there's a generation (or two) now that believes that socially-networked communication is the only meaningful kind.
Now what do you think might have been the reaction? And what do you think might have been the result?
It's Wednesday. And Wednesdays are always my days for wondering.
Curt Sleeper is a man ahead of the curve. The curve that begins the downward spiral.
Understanding that humanity is regressing to its cave-dweller roots, he and his wife Deborah bought their own cave in Festus, Mo., back when most people were tossing their home equity down a cavernous hole.
The Sleepers even sold their DVD collection to buy the 17,000 square foot cave. I don't even want to think what their heating bills must be. However, I know they are now experiencing a deep chill.
The cave cost $160,000, of which the Sleepers put down half. The other half they borrowed from the people who sold them the cave. (No, they were not called the Crusoes or the Robinsons from Switzerland.) It was a five-year loan with one so-called balloon payment at the end, which would be this May.
Sadly, with the banks in a self-induced coma of convenience, the Sleepers are unable to refinance. Mr. Sleeper, a computer consultant, told ABC News: "Right now, banks are not interested in anything odd." There is, indeed, nothing odd about taking taxpayers' money to cover for decisions made in large echoing heads.
So Mr. Sleeper has gone Web 2.0 to achieve his required zeros. He has requested bids on eBay.
He and his family have spent five years turning the cave, which was once an ice rink and also a concert venue (Yes, Bob Seger played there. Ted Nugent's hair performed there, too.), into something Ali Baba and his 40 thieves would have loved.
"The goal is not notoriety," he said. "The goal is either to finance or sell my house."
10,000 people have already shown some interest in cave-dwelling. 70 have declared their pre-registered interest in bidding.
The delight of it all is that the Sleepers actually found their cavernous dream on eBay too. So I am sure there must be someone who appreciates that cave-dwelling is the future. Just think of the number of hairy roommates you could fit into 17,000 square feet.
In the Apple TV spots, actor Justin Long plays a comfortable and lucrative role. He is cool, slightly superior, but ultimately just clever enough.
In the new movie Zack and Miri Make a Porno, Long plays a role many actors might have turned down. Moreover, many clients, on hearing the character their main spokesperson had chosen to play, would have attempted to prevent him from appearing in the movie at all. They might even have threatened to cancel his contract.
After all, here we have the most recognizable film personification of one of the world's most recognizable brands, Apple. And he's playing a gay porn star.
In fact, not only is he playing a gay porn star, he's actually advertising the iPhone while he's advertising his affection for his boyfriend's bottom.
Zack and Miri is not a great movie. But Long's performance, as he adopts an unusually deep throaty voice and a passion for his craft as well as his man, is the inspiration for much of the ensuing carnal action. In perhaps five minutes of screen time, he shoplifts the movie.
So here's what you might be wondering. Did Apple approve Long's participation in this endearing love story?
How could it not?
The plot pivots on Long revealing that he has seen Elizabeth's Banks's (or rather her charater's) large underpants on YouTube (Yes, it's a date movie). He proves his devotion to the pirated movie featuring her bepanted behind by brazenly playing it for her on his iPhone at a High School reunion.
Could anyone really imagine that Long would risk losing his Apple contract to play what is, at least in screen time, a highly secondary role in an R-rated movie?
Which might leave you with one small but important thought as you head for the voting booth. Some people were surprised when Apple came out strongly against California's Proposition 8, a proposition designed to outlaw gay marriage.
Yet here is an example of Apple putting its brand where its mouth is, supporting with its signature product its own famous spokesperson in his role as a gay porn star.
You'd be forgiven for thinking that, in a movie in which Seth Rogen has to boot up an old original iBook by slapping it very hard, Apple is one of the most confident brands in the world.
Perhaps it is also one of the most sophisticated when it comes to product placement. Product placement isn't about shoving your product into a TV series or a movie.
It's about having it play a role just like any of the actors. Even the actor who's your gay porn star spokesperson.
It's not easy being a bank employee these days. You don't know what your bank will be tomorrow. Perhaps it will be a different kind of bank. Or even a former bank.
So perhaps it is unsurprising that Geoff Harmer, an IT chap at Barclays Bank in Basingstoke, England (a little like the nice parts of New Jersey), decided to invest $90 and his artistic talent into making a Star Wars movie.
The opus is entitled Overtime and the action takes place around the bank cubicles, in an elevator (where the protagonists encounter a tall bald man who has something of Chewbacca's gutturals) and, um, around some more cubicles.
The acting might best be described as determined, with the Emmy going to a female employee who manages to brandish two lightsabers with all the grace of Uma Thurman in Kill Bill. Well, some of the grace.
The film lasts just over eight minutes and is confidently followed by a taster of the employees' next movie, entitled OT2. Time an' a Half, which seems to involve another female brandisher with far more black make-up and significantly less black clothing.
I won't spoil the twisting, cerebral plot which acts as Overtime's spine, but there is some quite stunning news. The movie has been accepted into the 41st. POL-8 Film Festival in Poland.
Held in the small Siliesian town of Polanica-Zdroj, POL-8 celebrates the amateur film maker. And, in case viewing the movie with a large audience fills you with excitement, it begins this Thursday. Flights are still available, though you'll have to get something of a puddle-jumper from Warsaw or Krakow.
You might think that any old amateur digitalia is accepted by the Festival. You'd be mistaken. The Festival Committee viewed 76 movies and only admitted 48. Last year, a Czech film, called At the End of Time walked off with the first prize.
Perhaps the judges are partial to subject matter that considers end-of-the-world scenarios.
Let us hope that is the case. And let us hope that the world's IT community will keep its collective digits crossed for its fellow artist.
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