Why I Google Myself and Cringe

People who know me know that I Google everyone, and most of all, I Google myself often. This is really not an act of vanity. It's more that I want to see what others will see if they Google me.

There is all kinds of stuff out there. I spoke to someone the other day about Leadership Houston. A quick Google revealed their current job, their old job, and the fact that they had been an official witness for two executions in the 1990s. Sometimes, this information is useful in breaking down barriers.

But there is a limit. You see, if you Google me, you'll see everything from 5K racetimes, a note I wrote about a friend of mine who died, and other random things. I have always wondered how I will ever get rid of those obscure things... and now I am not alone.

I read Stephanie Rosebloom's article on this subject and knew exactly what she was talking about. Her comment about a picture taken 10 years ago:

The only thing more unfortunate than the photo is that nearly a decade after it was taken - a decade in which I became a blonde and graduated to stilettos - it is still the definitive image of me on the World Wide Web, the one that pops up every time my name is entered in a Google search. It even has the dubious distinction of being in the top 10 hits in a list of several hundred, most of them articles I have written.

Amen sister. Sarcastically, she offers the following advice:

THEREFORE, the secret to burying unflattering Web details about yourself is to create a preferred version of the facts on a home page or a blog of your own, then devise a strategy to get high-ranking Web sites to link to you. Many people assume that a Google ranking has something to do with Web traffic, but that is incorrect, as is the notion that the more links a site has, the higher its PageRank.

Notably, this has not removed the old picture from the web. In fact, Google's spider has not found her blogs yet. (I'm too lazy or I would track them down myself.)

Yeah, I know it's not exactly electronic discovery today, but here I think is the connection:

Much of record retention is proper training. That's what Philip Morris is ultimately about (if you presume, no bad motives, which I do). Zubulake, too. The next time you have a training exercise, Google the people in the room and show them that e-mail really is forever.

Just food for thought. Like everything else.