Aliana Thompson | Staff Illustrator

I suppose I should start this by coming out and saying it: I am a Sidechat karma farmer. I post inauthentically because I know it will get upvotes. You may know some of my work: “Guys it’s finally spring!!!!!” and “Watching everyone frolic on Mudd field in the sun is literally so human.” These sentences would never leave my lips in real life. 

It all started with a $15 notebook. I saw it in the bookstore while I was picking up textbooks for my first-ever semester at WashU. I thought to myself, “That must be a really good notebook if they’re charging that much.” Then, “Hey, that’s kinda funny, I should put that on Sidechat.” 

Early in the year is always a hot time on Sidechat as the first-years excitedly begin to integrate into the WashU community, so I got a modest 120 or so upvotes on it. 

To those unfamiliar with Sidechat-induced dopamine, allow me to briefly explain the way those geniuses at Sidechat HQ have designed the notification system. First, “You got your first upvote!” A jolt. Then “Your post reached 5 karma!” and  “Your post reached 10 karma!” Things are moving fast. Then they slow down. You don’t get another notification until your post reaches 25. After you reach 100, they slow down to just one notification every 50 upvotes, leaving you strung out by the initial rush of validation. 

I didn’t get a 150 upvote notification on that post, but the damage was done; I was hooked. Then the cogs started to turn. Maybe I didn’t need to wait for organic inspiration to strike to get the same kick. I could read the market, analyze the trends, and create a post carefully curated for my audience. 

Most of you probably remember the dining drama last year. It seemed like everyone was up in arms about the dining hours or options, leading to the creation of the All You Care to Eat option in Bear’s Den and a whole host of emails from dining services. 

But me? I wasn’t angry. This was my first chance to commit Sidechat fraud. I had my friend post from his account, posing as a random passerby to hide my karma farming intentions. 

“They just making their own food now 😭” with a picture of a chicken sandwich I made. 300 upvotes. The success, though unimpressive in the grand scheme of things, was staggering to me. 

The posts flew from my fingers. My post about Corner 17 mystery meat did pretty well, vague complaints about midterms reliably performed, and posts about the weather were almost guaranteed at least 300 upvotes. I learned how to write to maximize engagement, knew when to ragebait and when to agree. I’m a Chinese major who hasn’t even taken Calc 1, but you bet your ass I was complaining about the organic chemistry final last semester.

My goal in writing this confession is not to brag. It’s a warning. As I scroll, I can’t help but wonder how many of us are out there. Was “STOP COUGHING IN CLASS” posted by a WashU student distracted by the sound of coughing? Or was it someone who knew it was a universal issue and posted it after thinking it up in the shower, letting the 400+ upvotes stream in overnight?

But to the people who will decide that I’m a monster after reading this, I want to remind you that my kind and I are vital to this university’s culture. Even greedy, dopamine-hungry Sidechat farmers, myself included, are contributing to an ever-evolving WashU community on Sidechat, whether it be the relentless jokes about wedgie guy, calc 2 girl, or the ubiquity of the great Karl Schaefer (again, something even I, a math-averse humanities major, know).

Though I don’t know if I’ll ever shake the twinge of guilt that accompanies posting a blatantly plagiarized meme or a complaint about a class I’m not even taking, I rest easier knowing this fact: Whether or not my complaint about organic chemistry was earned by actually taking the exams, I am providing an outlet for the people who are really struggling. Each upvote is a person who imagined that I am authentically sharing their solidarity. 

This is my defense. Whether or not you consider this enough to earn my redemption, I am going to continue posting. And you will never know. Sure, maybe someone was truly super happy about the surprisingly warm weather last Tuesday. Or maybe it was me, still in bed, who posted a meme copied and pasted from the internet after seeing that people were talking about the weather. Maybe you’re relieved that someone is finally appreciating how difficult that data science exam was. Or maybe I heard someone talking about it in Olin and dropped everything to whip out my phone. You will never know.