“Strange feeling that someone is looking at me. I am clear, then dim, then gone, then dim again, then clear again, and so on, back and forth, in and out of someone’s eye.” (Samuel Beckett, Happy Days)

The latest meteor to hit tabloid journalism happened this week in Foxboro, Massachusetts, when the married CEO of a tech company and his alleged lover and work subordinate, the Chief of Human Resources, were caught in a cozy clinch while bending to the music at a Coldplay concert.  A scheming Jumbotron, the arena’s Big Eye in the Sky, was scanning the audience to catch unsuspecting attendees in the moment.  For this couple, this minute-long exposure didn’t end with a friendly grin or exuberant hand wave.  Upon realizing their illicit play date had been exposed, they uncurled themselves at breakneck speed, he, beelining to the ground and she, slinking out of camera range, as if a Watusi dance had short-circuited.  Adding to their televised shame, Chris Martin, leader singer of Coldplay, realizing what had transpired jokingly told the audience, “Either they’re having an affair or they’re just very shy.”  And just like that, Mr. Married CEO and Ms. Alleged Inamorata & HR Chief became a viral meme.

In an apparent PR directed statement posted online, Mr. CEO checked off all the necessary boxes of a public mea culpa, expressing sincere apologies to his wife and family, his team at the company, while acknowledging they deserve better from their leader.  Instead of leaving well enough alone, the statement double-downs and adds a pinch of victimhood for good measure, lamenting how “troubling it is that what should have been a private moment became public without his consent…”  Welcome to 2025, friend. If it’s anonymity you’re seeking, it’s wise not to bring the woman who is not your wife to a rock concert.  Still, he brings attention to a critical sign of the times:  The surveillance state rules.  Whether you’re picking a remnant of spinach from your teeth in a secluded aisle of CVS or running through an airport doing your best OJ impression as you race to the gate, Big Brother is always watching.

I, for one, feel grateful each day that my carousing days ended before the advent of smartphones everywhere.  It’s burdensome enough when I’m at a customer service counter and the clerk glances at the name on my ID, “Karen,” the stereotyped pejorative that has become synonymous with a difficult interaction.  I remind myself, “wider smile, lower voice” so not to activate any camera panthers waiting in the wings. 

If the world has become one big, recorded stage revealing the good, the bad and the ugly, “Cancel Culture” is its red-faced, angry cousin who disrupts holiday dinners at the drop of an infraction.  We’ve become actors in the Universe’s theatrical production, our steps always mindful of the next scene.  For some, it’s altered behavior to be more cautious and observant of their surroundings, for others, it’s released the raging narcissist within, convinced the cheeseburger they’re eating might bring a coveted 15-minutes of fame if the grease seductively drips to their chin at just the right angle. 

Decades ago, when television personality Alan Funt bellowed, “Smile, you’re on Candid Camera” very few knew it would become an anthropological harbinger.  George Orwell did and tried to warn us. The next time you’re tempted to pull on that irritating wedgie from the seat of your pants while out in public, think again … you may become a TikTok sensation.