I raised my palm, ready to receive a friendly slap, when things turned weird. The big guy grabbed my hand and stopped me in my tracks.
Powerful body odour emanated from every part of him — a heady mix of sweat, booze, honking halitosis and a sniff of the bowel.
Fear gripped me as he leaned in to share some advice around health, fitness and gainful employment. "Running's a waste of time, mate," he growled aggressively. "You should be doing something, mate. Not running around wasting your time, mate. Get a job, mate."
This dangerously steamed man reckoned I wasn't spending my time wisely. This whale of a human in tiny league shorts reckoned I should 'get a job'. "I have three jobs, mate," I thought of saying. "You are pissing me off," I screamed silently in my head. I was furious. So I thanked him politely in a squeaky voice and ran off.
Obviously, I ignored his advice. He wasn't the right person to be handing it out. He was drunk, obese and on methamphetamine. I had just finished work and was going for a run before going back to the office. Bless him. I hope he turns things around, but his suggestions were meaningless and smelly. He had zero credibility.
This real-world experience offers a lesson we can take online. Much of the internet is anonymous; be careful whose opinions you take on board.
For all you know, the person commentating, criticising or sharing their thoughts online is that giant drunk guy. There is no reason to take anyone seriously until you know who they are.
The annoying opinion you are worried about online could be from anyone. Maybe it's some stupidly emotional 17-year-old who knows nothing about the world and has nothing to lose. Perhaps it's a giant man wearing too-small shorts.
There are people who share thoughtful, positive information, but primarily social media is full of show-offs, cry-babies and angry loners saying stupid crazy stuff to get attention. They are screaming into the void to get noticed. It would be great if we could see who is who.
That's why we should force all the evil social media punishers like Twitter, Facebook, TikTok and Reddit to make people verify their identity.
To get a profile, you should have to submit an ID and prove who you are. Don't let anyone post who isn't using their real name, age, country, sex and likeness.
Two things would happen. People would be nicer to each other because their comments would have real-world consequences. Secondly, we would know who we are talking to. If someone is 14 years old, you know their opinions aren't fully formed.
Equally, if you are 14, it's handy to see if you're talking to a creepy 40-year-old.
And if someone gives you employment and health advice, it's good to know they are overweight and drunk in the middle of the day.
If my dad told me to stop exercising, I'd take it on board. He's a good man, he's smart and he's a doctor. I know him. His opinion is worth something. I am pretty sure my drunk mate on the road isn't an employment expert.
My first clue was him drunkenly screaming at people during work hours. I could tell his views on health and fitness weren't 100 per cent credible because he was massively overweight and on P.
If he were offering fashion tips, I wouldn't have taken them on board either because there was too much going on out the side of his shorts. Yet his intense, loud and emotional opinion would go well online.
Social media algorithms promote crazy over sane, intensity over reason, destructive over constructive, evil over good and drunk over sober.
The more provocative a post, the more interactions it gets and the more ads they sell. No one looks at the ads, but that's not the point. The damage is done.
The extreme outlying opinions get amplified, the good ones ignored, and half the time, we don't even know who is sharing them.
Next time you see a tweet in a news article and think the world is ending, remember you only see it because it is extreme. It's not typical of humanity. Ask yourself, 'is this person's opinion worth anything?'
For all, you know the full-on comment that is upsetting you came from a drunk, methed-up tugboat of a man in a pair of undersized, soiled Rabbitohs shorts.
