When seeing 150 points attributed to blogging in the “Grade breakdown” section of our writing class syllabus, my friend and I exchanged surprised glances. “This is a joke, right? Our tuition can’t be going into something we are already proficient at!” Little did we know that this class was going to introduce us to the rules for making it in the 21st century.

With great difficulty will you find a digital native— that is, a person born or brought up during the age of digital technology and therefore familiar with computers and the Internet from an early age— who isn’t registered on at least one social network. Our online persona is a continuation of who we are offline. But unlike real life, which pins identifiers on us based on our demographics (economic, political, or religious background), social media concedes the control over our digital identity to us.

Self-narration on the Internet enhances our sense of self. As if by putting it on the Web, we've created a lasting digital confirmation of our existence and achievements. Nowadays, we get sucked into the swamp of cybersphere. Our worth is no longer defined by our moral values, ethics, and beliefs, but by likes, followers, and comments. In the quest for popularity on social media, many catch an obsession with constantly updating their 10 accounts and building followership that allegedly guarantees success.

And it's funny how strangers who follow us convince themselves they know us because we once publicly acknowledged our insecurities or childhood phobias, even as they only see what we allow them to see. All our web accounts scattered across various social networks— such as Facebook, Instagram, Twitter or LinkedIn— are just vague, embellished concepts of ourselves put together to please a wide audience.

In fact, we consciously construct them as to near modern standards of perfection and hence they all resemble each other, lack vivacity and an individual voice.

Often dissatisfied with certain aspects of our character, appearance or lifestyle, we attempt to conceal those flaws on our social network accounts. We do so not only because we are afraid to be perceived as losers to others and ruin our reputation— honestly speaking, nobody apart from our relatives and friends really cares whether or not we are doing great because people are preoccupied with their own lives. Online attention contributes to our offline well-being.

Our social media personas are becoming increasingly important in job searches, as well. You might think: “Of course, recruiters seek to see past our stiff formal resume and cover letter and get an insight into our personality.” You are right, but only partially. They evaluate the effectiveness and leadership skills of their potential employees based on the way the latter present themselves on social media. Moreover, hiring individuals with a considerable online influence positively reflects on their employer, and therefore active users have an advantage over social media ghosts.

In other words, our real-life selves in flesh and bone don’t always suffice to land us a job although they are packed with charisma, knowledge, and experience. So, how far-fetched does the plot of that Black Mirror episode seem to you now?