I am a grumpy old troll, I know that. If I was represented as a character in a soap, I’d be a meld of Norris Cole and Roy Cropper, a mixture of OCD and meddling. It’s my way. I sit under bridges waiting for goats to cross and challenge them. I don’t hide behind a fake profile picture or a nom de plume like many keyboard warriors. But I do get labelled as a troll for calling out preposterous humble brags.
Being under a bridge though, waiting for the stream to re-emerge from its dryness, has its advantages. I spy goats. And I’ve realised I want them and they need something from me.
These goats trip trapping over my bridge to reach the sweet green grass of Google page one have no idea how to get there, because they don’t have skills.
I now trade my skills for goats.
A goat has something that I don’t have – that delicious milk that can be made into delectable cheese – and I have abilities that will get the goat online.
Web design and writing skills.
The goat won’t pay – like some clients so what do we do?
That’s a phase I’ve now entered.
If don’t like the connotations of olde England soon to return to backward Brexity Britain, let’s call it skill sharing.
You selling goat’s cheese or goat’s milk or carpets or SEO services or logos or email marketing nous? I’ll lift my fat submerged head above the bridge parapet and say “I’d like some of that – in return for blogs, web design or social media marketing.”
After all, I am in Norfolk where the wheel has recently been invented, with a vague promise of a motorway in the next 70 years.
Barter is now Norfolk’s Bitcoin and I intend to embrace it.