Episode 51 – It’s not only the men who can be a nuisance

Beth was having a wonderful time exploring Victorian science-fiction sims. She was playing in rocket ships, getting up-close and personal with Bessemer Convertors, taking submarine rides and generally behaving like a Big Kid. She was wearing her riding breeches and a red hat and thought she was the bees knees. This is what SL is all about, she was thinking.



A female avatar failed to get out of Beth’s blundering trajectory quickly enough, so a conversation ensued
Me “Hi A….! Are you enjoying yourself?”
She “Hi Beth. Yes I am”
Me “This is a great place. So much to do and see!”
Top right screen: ‘A… has offered you friendship’
Whoa there missy, thinks Beth. That’s a tad forward. I’m only saying “hi”. Beth ignores the pop-up
She “Oh yes. Some of these sims are really pretty”
Me “There’s a really cool helicopter ride. I recommend it”



She “I sent you a friendship offer. Did you get it?”
Beth resorts to ‘lame’
Me “Oh – um. Maybe not. But I haven’t worked out what everything does yet!”
The pop-up is still there. Big and blue. ‘Accept. Decline. Accept. Decline’
She “I’m from Scotland”
Anxious not to re-emerge too swiftly from her warm bath of SL sim-iness, Beth tries to draw A.... away from RL conversation.
Me “Thomas Stevenson was Scottish. I think they’ve recreated one of his lighthouses near here”
She “Did you get my friendship offer yet?"
The pop-up throbs as a dozen lies put themselves forward for consideration. ‘Accept. Decline. Accept. Decline’
Me “Um. Hang on . I’ll have a proper look. I’m gonna climb the lighthouse later. SL is great, isn’t it? You can behave like a Big Kid all the time!”
She “Have you got any kids?”
Yikes! Beth couldn’t give a flying monkey’s shit about this woman’s RL. Especially her kids. What was wrong with her, Beth wondered? Has she not looked around? Does she not have eyes to see?
Me “Er. I’ve got a couple of dogs”
Beth is quickly exhausting her bucket of RL distraction lines. And still the pop-up glows and pulses. ‘Accept. Decline. Accept. Decline’. There is nothing in both worlds that Beth wants more at this precise moment than to decline this woman’s friendship. But how? She doesn’t want to be rude. But this woman is going about it all wrong. Beth starts to recall snippets and warnings about people out to get newbies. Is this woman one of them? Has she got evil intentions towards her? Is this all some wicked ploy?
She “I’ve got three kids”
Oh god, nooooo! This is no calculating cyber-villain. This woman is just, tediously, torturously, terminally boring! She’s just come on to SL to look for unwary people who will listen to her banging on about her f**king kids! Presumably because everyone in her RL neighbourhood would rather hide in their house than take the risk of running into her on the street. Beth has to get away. The awful realisation hits her that this scenario could potentially be worse than being stuck in an Irish bar with a whole bevy of sweaty poets…
And still the pop-up of Damocles hangs there above her head. ‘Accept. Decline. Accept. Decline. ACCEPT. DECLINE’.
She “My kids showed me how to get into SL. Don’t you want to be friends with me?”
Beth imagines what she would like to do to this woman’s bastard offspring if she ever got hold of them. But then she decides that they have probably suffered enough, considering… ‘Accept. Decline. Accept. Decline. ACCEPT. DECLINE’. What should she do? She’d never thought to ask anyone what you do if you didn’t want to be friends with someone. Is it a major commitment? Can you get rid of them later? Will they know? Can they still find you afterwards and continue to force you to listen to their dreary life story? Beth was starting to panic. What to do? What to do?
She “And I have four grandkids! Why haven’t you accepted my friendship yet?”
Because I would rather tp into the Ancient Rome Gladiator sim with no weapons or even the first clue what the rules of the game are, rather than talk to you for one more nanosecond you boring cow!, thinks Beth
‘Accept. Decline. Accept. Decline. ACCEPT. DECLINE’. Beth crumbles.
Me “Oh look! There it is! Silly me…”
Beth hits the ‘accept’ button and crosses fingers, toes and legs. Maybe she has bought some time. Maybe someone will know how to get her out of this later.
She “We took the grandkids to Majorca with us this year”
Beth brain forms the truly terrifying image of this woman producing a virtual handbag and pulling out a textures folder bulging with snaps of her and the brats on the beach. Beth can take no more. She falls back on the worst excuse going
Me “Oh sorry A…. I have to go. There’s someone at the door”

Bloody, battered and totally despairing of the socially inept depths to which she was forced to sink, Beth poofs to her secret changing room in the sky. She IMs her nearest online contact and wails about her predicament. She is told that just deleting the Scottish woman's contact will allow her to sink into blissful anonymity once more. Beth makes herself feel better by picking through her ‘To Sort’ folder and imagining what might yet be in all those unopened boxes. But that little niggle still jumps in once in a while. “There’s someone at the door”
Oh, puh-lease….



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