The dangerous art of speaking your mind

I have been fortunate in my career. I’ve only made one move, and it was a decision I made for myself. ¶ At my previous job at GCSAA, I would occasionally ponder getting fired. Not because my performance was lacking, or because the boss had a beef with me. ¶ No, my concern was email.

I imagined that one day the human resources director would walk into my office and say, “Seth, we need to talk about the email you sent yesterday. Report to my office.” I imagined I’d grab my jacket and keys, just to be ready.

I wasn’t firing off belligerent emails all over the industry. But I was young and brash and I wasn’t always the politically correct, walk-the-association-line type of employee.

Keep in mind, email was still somewhat new then. I remember sending my first email in the mid-’90s, feeling like Alexander Graham Bell calling Mr. Watson for the first time. My email etiquette skills were still rough around the edges. They’ve been polished since.

My new fear? Twitter. One hundred and forty characters sent out for the world to see and judge.

Take, for example, former PGA of America President Ted Bishop. After sending “an insensitive” tweet about Ian Poulter last month, the PGA of America board removed him from office. His crime? Calling Poulter a “Lil girl.”

Was it wise for someone in Bishop’s position to call Poulter a ‘lil girl?’ No. But was there any real damage done? I say no. Just last week I shouted much worse things at San Francisco Giants right fielder Hunter Pence, and he’s A-OK.

Social media has made everyone lil girls — er, wimps — when it comes to speaking opinions. It used to be people called each other names and it was over, you know, sticks and stones.

But now the wrong tweet spells doom. We must apologize for saying exactly what we meant. Meanwhile, it feels like the art of sharing a colorful opinion is on its deathbed.

There is an excellent essay on this topic by Gilbert Gottfried called “The Apology Epidemic.” Google it, it’s worth the read. His most profound thought: “You could slap somebody hard in the face and they’d say, ‘Well, that was weird. Can we discuss this further?’ But tell a joke on Twitter that somebody doesn’t find funny and they’ll howl for your blood.”

This social media minefield isn’t limited to Twitter. What about Facebook or your work blog? Can you imagine something you wrote on the Internet costing you your job?

There is a steadily growing number of superintendents on Twitter, and I enjoy following them (follow me @Golfdom). Most of the conversation is pretty vanilla (apologies to vanilla) but sometimes it gets interesting. Some people who are popular on Twitter probably take it too seriously, while some of the unknowns probably don’t take it seriously enough.

I have heard — via good ol’ spoken word gossip — that there was a superintendent who lost his job this year because he was too vocal on Twitter regarding club policies. His membership didn’t like it, and he was soon looking for a new job.

Every superintendent is judged by the conditions of their golf course, especially the conditions of their greens. How silly would it be to be shown the door when the greens look great but last night’s tweet offended Miss Havisham and the bridge club?

I don’t know Ted Bishop personally, but I did see him address the crew at the 2014 PGA Championship at Valhalla. He was great. He’s a proud member of the GCSAA, and a former superintendent. And apparently he doesn’t think highly of Ian Poulter.

Sounds like someone, at the very least, whom I should be following on Twitter.