Michael Arrington had some tough words for Squidoo. Let’s call it what it is. He shreds Squidoo to pieces.
I agree with him. I agree with my mind, the numbers just don’t add up. I also agree with my heart, I was let down. I didn’t want it to fail. But it did.
If Squidoo doesnâ€™t work out as planned, and I donâ€™t think it will, Seth loses more than his time and whatever capital heâ€™s put into Squidoo. He also loses credibility as an expert in product marketing. To borrow the metaphor, Squidoo could become an albatross around Sethâ€™s neck.
Which is why I struggled with this post. Being let down, it’s too tempting to gang up on Squidoo and blame it even for the things it didn’t do wrong.
I got my Squidoo cheque the other day, with just enough money to cover for 30 minutes of metered parking. It was also a reminder I haven’t paid attention to my lense in months. And that I just don’t care.
Financially, flipping burgers at McDonald’s pays better. Traffic to my blog? I’ve seen none. But while I neglected my lense, I made some posts here and comments in other places. I kept some of you entertained, informed others, and helped the rest waste time during the day. I doubt my lense did any of that.
Seth has this great story to tell about X-Ray eyes. If I remember correctly, like a broken clock, they work exactly twice. Once when you buy them and realize you’ve been had. And once when you use them to fool someone else. Either way, it’s a great story to tell.
If anything this post is about a great story. And how stories are not always enough. How weaving a good tale could lead to great disappointment. And how all of that makes up a story, just not the one Seth would love to tell.
And there’s one question nagging in my mind. Will I bother to read Seth’s blog again?