Previously I blogged about the time I created a Twitter account for a secret society at my undergrad. (It's called in8. I'm showing all my cards here.) The biggest confusion I get is that people then ask, “So you were part of a secret society?”
No, I was not. I just ran their Twitter.
“Did they ask you to?”
Anyhow, that seemed old news. I graduated two years ago. I never tweeted anything terrible from the account, just veiled mentions of things to come. Literally, I once tweeted, “Soon.” A few people favorited it.
Recently I began to reveal to friends my “deep, dark secret.” Cue their confusion or else their awe at my mischief.
“You are Anonymous to Anonymous.” – my fans
I knew eventually word would reach back to the secret society, that they would find out I, Cazey Williams, was the rogue who ran the Twitter they had no control over. I mean, I wrote a freaking blog post about it.
And I knew they wanted the account. The year I made it, the student body vice president direct messaged the account demanding I turn it over. She had no idea it was me, an actual friend of hers.
This past week the secret society recognized some students at my old college. That’s what in8 does: Every semester they recognize people by placing letters publicly on the steps of Wilson Hall at James Madison University.
A friend let me know it had happened. Not like I would have known now that I live 90 miles away.
So I tweeted:
“It has come to pass. Congratulations.”
And then I Snapchatted the Twitter account to about 20 friends. I knew full well one of them might be an alum of in8. I actually guessed a particular individual was in it. I was disappointed by the immediate fallout aka there was no fallout. Only one person replied back.
Well, that was anticlimactic.
Cut to this morning. I keep getting called from “No Caller ID.” This meant nothing to me. Last week some dude in Washington kept leaving me voicemails that the IRS was suing me. Sarasota, FL and Mansfield, TX also call me on a regular basis, and I press ignore.
When I actually answered in the afternoon, it was an accident. “Hello?”
Boy on the other line: “Hi? Is this Cazey?”
Me: “Yes, this is him.”
Boy: “I’m calling from in8. We know you run a Twitter account representing us.”
…Not who I was expecting to be on the line.
And yes, also, this was a boy. This was not a man; it was obviously a student who was at least three years younger than me. And he sounded nervous AF. I wanted to remind him I’m the criminal here, not him.
Me: “…That is correct.”
Boy: “We were wondering if we could have the password. Now that you don’t go here anymore, we thought we might manage the account.”
I briefly contemplated if I wanted to give up my creation, then decided, Sure; it wasn't like I did much with it anymore. One problem:
Me: “Sure, I can give it to you. But I need some time to figure out the password.”
Boy: “But you tweeted from it yesterday….”
Me: “Yeah, but I haven’t logged out in three years. I don’t remember the password. How should I contact you since you called with no caller ID?”
I could tell this was not the response the boy wanted, but honestly, like, I didn’t remember the password. Sorry?
He gave me an email address: email@example.com. I wanted to ask who the CEO was if this is a foundation. Can I be a trustee? Wait, I already am.
He also thanked me for not tweeting anything disparaging from the account.
Me: "No problem!"
We agreed I would send the password over by tomorrow, and I got off the phone. By “agree,” I don’t know what repercussions there would be. What if I decided I didn’t want to give up the password? Are they going to excommunicate me as an alumni? Fine, I won’t donate.
A moment later, they emailed:
Thank you for your understanding regarding the Twitter account.
In the Spirit,
The in8 Foundation
Me: What is our understanding?
Getting the Twitter password turned out to be a bear. You would think I could just click “Forgot Password,” but that would assume I linked the Twitter account to a personal account. Children, I am not an amateur; I created a whole Gmail account for this Twitter. And what was that Gmail?
What was that Gmail?
Twitter told me they would email the password to "firstname.lastname@example.org."
While pondering the email, I Googled the in8 Organization only to find this was an actual 501(c)3 nonprofit with a tax ID – and a mailing address in Glen Allen, VA. Hmm.
I wonder how many meetings they had about me and this Twitter account
What is the email?
What will they do if I don't give it over?
Maybe it's...no, that's not it.
Imagine, this was someone's job all day today - to get the Twitter password from me. Actually, I don't have to imagine.
Oh! I know it!
Five minutes later I had changed the password. I considered making it “SorryNotSorry” or “Ithotitwasfunny” or referencing the fact one of in8’s members massacred a student org I used to head and this was my revenge, but none of that was true. Except for the “I thought it was funny.”
Ultimately I made the password “In the Spirit.” And it’s in the same spirit that I handed over the account. And then made them an Instagram account.
The password is InTheSpirit.
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