A terrible thing happened these past few days, unbeknownst to anyone. No, it’s not that UN Greta grin, as it will soon start to be called. No, it’s not the Impeachment-inducing Ukrainian phone call made by none other than (still) President Trump. No, it’s not that superb British blow in the face of Premier Boris Johnson, with the Supreme court of the land ruling that his suspension of Parliament was unconstitutional.
It’s worse: I spent an entire week without being able to do anything on my Instagram account. Like, anything: couldn’t like any pictures (obviously), couldn’t comment on anything (including my own stuff!), couldn’t even post anything… except for stories, I found out a couple of days in. Still, this past week was the most traumatic one I had since my imaginary pet died as a child. Granted, that “Instagram ban” started solely because of my problematic obsession with liking pictures on there, that led these guys to think I was some sort of malignant bot. Which some will say I am, but that’s another story.
Anytime I tried to post something (other than stories), it would invariably say that the ban would end on September 25th. So I (im)patiently waited, playing even more 2048 and watching way more Youtube videos instead (the only drawback with videos is you cannot click on them: they stop). Until yesterday, September 25th, happened. As I woke up in the wee hours of 9am, I immediately opened Instagram— while still in bed — and tried liking the first picture that came on my feed. It was a blurry vacation picture, but no matter: I just had to find out. And find out I did: I was still blocked.
This bugged me quite a bit: you see, after an entire week of waiting for that deadline to arrive, this felt a bit arbitrary. Then I assumed they take into account the San Francisco time zone, calmed down and made myself coffee. Later on in the day, every 20 minutes or so, I tried liking again. And, every 20 minutes or so, my like got rejected. Which, interestingly, didn’t feel all that bad by the 10th time. Then, a little before 5pm (Paris time), as I tried liking an ad (you do what you can), it worked: my heart held on. I was back.
I then proceeded to go through my feed for an entire week’s worth of stuff. But, because I was so scared of getting banned again — for doing something arguably normal, for a change — I didn’t like all my friends’ vacation pics. Only food pics. In black and white. It’s a thing.