When the playground fight is replaced by Facebook meltdown

In the old days at school when you were ‘bad friends’ (don’t you love that term?) with someone, you would excommunicate them from the group.

You ignore them, not invite them around to your house to play cowboys and crooks or ask them to join the evening soccer game on the street.
If there is a more serious argument at school there would be an invitation to meet the other party behind the bicycle shed after school. A sizable crowd would gather and the more inventive of the rubber-neckers would quickly start a betting tote on who would win.

The fight would be brief and brutal and the girls would first scream, then fight among themselves and then cry. Later, the boys would be mates and probably go to Nicks Café to play Space Invaders or maybe share a Coke – the stuff in a tin.

These days it is different. When there is a quarrel, the first thing you do is ‘unfriend’ them on Facebook. Now that term is nearly as paradoxical as bad friends. The strange thing is that keyboard warriors fight on Facebook.
It can be quite heated – especially when Anglo Zulu war purists find fault with the uniforms worn by the Dundee Diehards re-enactment group. Then, in a final volley, you delete yourself from the history group. Wham! Done – no bicycle shed needed. The funny part is you have never met face-to-face the person with whom you are arguing with. He is probably under a tree somewhere in Turkey armed with a keyboard.

Then you get the work quarrels. You know, when your colleague gives you the silent treatment and a stony look every time you try to be civil. You make your own tea just in case…
Nowadays it is far more serious. You delete yourself from the company WhatsApp group. Imagine the scandal. Imagine what others are typing about you now…

Sometimes the boss chucks you out of the WhatsApp group. Gee, that’s bad. Almost the equivalent of having your favourite coffee mug confiscated.
Then you get the really nasty type of fighters – in the old days at school, the bully would nick your sandwiches and put rocks in your lunchbox and maybe pee in your juice bottle.

Maybe even hide your swimming costume and towel when you have PT in summer and have to go the pool – now, forgetting your costume and towel on swimming day is a crime worse than murder. Mr Pienaar would flourish that short, thin cane with glee and the experience would be cutting.

Those were the bullies.
Fast forward to 2018 when the real cruel ones in the school group somehow get a nude photo of you (how come they always find one?) and stick it on Facebook.

You can have sandwiches and my juice and I will happily take my ‘cuts’ from Mr Pienaar but please, oh please, save me from FB meltdown…