The Atlanta Journal-Constitution

Viral videos and the workplace

Employees often push bosses’ patience in bids to get online attention.

- By Elizabeth C. Tippett Elizabeth C. Tippett is associate professor at the University of Oregon School of Law. This piece originally appeared in The Conversati­on, a nonprofit news source dedicated to unlocking ideas from academia for the public.

As the Thanksgivi­ng holiday was winding down, a medical center in Salem, Oregon, found itself in the middle of a frothing social media mess. A nurse named Ashley Grames posted a video on Tiktok that went viral in which she mock- confessed to ignoring coronaviru­s health guidelines.

The video — which Grames has since taken down, though it remains available on other feeds — is less than 15 seconds long. And if you’re not familiar with Tiktok tropes, the video will seem very weird. The nurse is wearing scrubs and seemingly at a medical facility. She lip- syncs to a short audio clip from “The Grinch” and mocks her co- workers’ outrage at her decision to flout the state mask mandate outside of work.

The nurse’s antics drew some unflatteri­ng attention to her employer, Salem Health, which suspended her pending an i nvestigati­on. But i t highlighte­d the ease with which employees can pull out a phone on the sly and share a l i ttle clip before the boss i s any the wiser. Popul ar examples i nclude a Domi no’s Pizza cook, an Amazon warehouse worker and Starbucks baristas. Their employers thus serve as unwitting backdrops — with the l ogos, uniforms and workplaces on full display.

As a law professor who studies workplace practices and policies, I find the mass of workplace Tiktok videos somewhat surprising. That’s because even the most innoc

uous videos likely violate standard corporate social media policies, which tend to require a strict separation between the corporate brand and one’s personal life. Workers are generally not allowed to speak on behalf of the company or use the company brand or facilities without permission. These policies also warn against embarrassi­ng the company or mocking customers.

It’s pretty much impossible to dance with your uniform on in the backroom without violating those rules — so why aren’t companies cracking down more?

A platform teems with uniforms

Tiktok, the preferred social media platform of the Gen Z set, is not really about connecting with friends. It’s more about recording the trend

ing dance or fluffy topic of the moment and hoping the algorithm will spread your post to its billions of users.

Since much of Tiktok is wordless and anodyne, TikTok seems the perfect corporate antidote to more pointed and politicize­d commentary on Twitter or Facebook.

And for the most part, it is. In 30- second bites, workers conjure up a mini fantasy world of a job free of supervisor­s. A man twirls and glides in a glum potato warehouse. An Amazon worker packs boxes with Olympic speed and precision. Hospital workers in protective gear groove with balloons bulging out of their scrubs.

And of course, there are cops — so many dancing cops. Police officers in full uniform, usually standing on the road or next to their patrol car, following prescribed dance moves to

snippets of R& B or hip- hop.

Why do cops love Tiktok? Why does Tiktok love cops? Their dancing is merely OK. But the uniform pops on the camera and the videos have a subversive quality — like, they probably aren’t allowed to do any of this, but they’re doing it anyway. The man thumbing his nose at the man.

It’s free promotion for the employer, as recruiting and marketing companies have pointed out. Even before the COVID- 19 era, these types of jobs could be difficult, dangerous, boring or low pay. Videos that present an alternate narrative, from the workers’ perspectiv­es — showing them looking cool or being silly — can’t really be replicated in formal marketing.

The honeymoon is over

On the other hand, Tiktok may just be following the same trajectory of social media predecesso­rs like Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. It all seems like fun and games until the scandals mount.

Beyond the Trump administra­tion’s attempt to ban the app, companies have also pounced on the faintest whiff of embarrassm­ent. Before there was Ashley Grames, there was a popular Tiktok paint mixer fired over the summer, apparently for posting a video in which he mixed blueberrie­s with paint.

And there have been less high- profile scandals in recent months: a worker fired over a video advising viewers to save money by ordering a drink with two extra pumps of syrup; a police officer suspended over a homophobic video; and a Domino’s worker fired for posting videos of himself spinning a pizza slicer in the air.

With Grames all over the news, companies that have not been monitoring workplace Tiktok posts may be scrambling to avert the next crisis, however minor.

As sociologis­ts Steven Maynard- Moody and Michael Musheno observe in their book “Cops, Teachers, Counselors,” front- line workers are mired in rules and procedures. The inevitable response to scandal, they argue, is just to impose more rules.

But much of the appeal of Tiktok resides in its patina of transgress­ion. Dunkin’s official Tiktok squad is as humdrum as any other corporate social media account. Reaping the viral rewards of Tiktok may ultimately require companies to accept a little risk — and at least pretend they don’t approve.

 ?? DREAMSTIME/ TNS ?? Bored and/ or fun- loving workers all across the corporate spectrum are using the Tiktok app in attempts to get their goofy antics widely viewed — to go viral, even though their dancing and pranks are almost universall­y banned activities by the folks who sign their paychecks.
DREAMSTIME/ TNS Bored and/ or fun- loving workers all across the corporate spectrum are using the Tiktok app in attempts to get their goofy antics widely viewed — to go viral, even though their dancing and pranks are almost universall­y banned activities by the folks who sign their paychecks.
 ??  ?? Elizabeth C. Tippett
Elizabeth C. Tippett

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