Face to face sex chat apps
Laura works in ad sales at a well-known tech company.
Her office uses Slack, which is likely either as integral to your workday as email or you have never heard of it before.
The Slack sell to employers is that it decreases the burden of email, because nobody likes email.
(Whether infinite chatty one-line messages are preferable to an overflowing inbox is debatable; for now, though, Slack retains the advantage of novelty.) It integrates the tools you already use, like Google Drive, so you can easily centralize everything.
For better or worse, it makes work life more like digital life, albeit a digital life where you can also smell what everyone else is eating for lunch.
The question is, what does this intrusion do to the delicate diplomacy of office life?
Open Slack, and it greets you with a friendly message as it loads: “Be cool. The day just got better.” Or: “Always get plenty of sleep, if you can.” (They’re all signed from “your friends at Slack.”) The left side of the screen lists your contacts and group “channels,” with green lights to indicate whether users are active and pink badges to mark unread messages.
Star the people you talk to most and they’ll stay at the top of your list, or search for any other employee by name and start a new conversation.
But the medium made that gossip searchable and public to anyone who knew where to look. And yet, at the same time, Slack was also the obvious place to do it.
One day last summer, a saleswoman was looking for a conversation she’d had with an account manager, so she typed her own name in Slack’s search bar.
She found a public Slack channel, says Laura (not her real name).
Recently, Slack added an emoji “status” feature that results in evermore tiny cartoons sprinkled through your chat history like confetti.
Rayl acknowledges that what happens on Slack doesn’t always look like work.