I thought I’d invented the word ‘twetiquette’ when I decided to write a post on the subject of Twitter manners but apparently the term pre-dated my intentions by a long way. It seems that you can prefix anything with ‘tw’ these days: tweeps, twalking, twaffic, twirritating. I only made up one of those – you can check this handy twictionary if you don’t believe me.
As its name suggests, twetiquette is the customary code of polite behaviour as relating to Twitter. Some of it is fairly obvious: don’t spam your followers with endless self-promotion; thank the person who #FFs you with a quick @reply or a return recommendation; don’t retweet a link before you read it (TNW explains why). Other twetiquette varies depending on what you use Twitter for. Dweeting (drunk tweeting), for example, can be funny amongst friends but is almost certainly a bad idea on a business-related Twitter account.
Recently, I came across a situation in which I wasn’t sure what the twetiquette was. Or, perhaps more accurately, I thought I knew what the twetiquette was but those around me didn’t seem to agree. I was at an event where a technology company was introducing its latest piece of kit to a room full of press and bloggers. During one spokesperson’s session, a search on the Twitter hashtag assigned to the event revealed a flurry of tweets disagreeing with the spokesperson, asking questions and, in some cases, making snide remarks about their speech.
This is far from uncommon but it struck me as strange. The only person offline, and therefore without access to the conversation, was the speaker. He was unable to defend himself against the nastier 140 character comments or correct misunderstandings of his point, simply because he wasn’t aware of them. It was a bit like passing notes in class or whispering behind his back. It struck me as childish and… well, rude.
It quickly became obvious that the tech company in question was used to this behaviour. Several of the speaker’s colleagues were tracking the Twitter conversation and tweeting factual corrections or light-hearted rebuffs as appropriate. They were acting as regulators of a sort, preventing the untrue and malicious buzz building unnecessarily. It brought home to me the necessity for brands to track the Twitterspehere constantly – and have people on hand to respond to concerns raised or questions asked. The people tracking tweets need to know their stuff too, or be close enough to those who do to get immediate feedback.
When someone is giving a speech, however, and allowing time for questions and objections, should all this be necessary? I’m all for using Twitter to share thoughts and opinions about what’s going on but when it comes to raising questions or objections at an event, whatever happened to putting up your hand?