Every Group Chat Eventually Develops Its Own Government
Nobody elected anyone, but somehow one person runs logistics, one person controls the memes and one person has not replied since March.
It starts as a chat. Then roles appear.
At first there is no structure. Somebody creates the chat for a birthday, a holiday or “just so we stop sending this in three different places.” The name is temporary. The profile photo is worse.
Give it a month and the system has evolved. One person schedules everything. One person responds only with reaction emojis. One person reads every message instantly but contributes once per financial quarter.
Nobody voted. Everyone has a department.
There is also usually an opposition party consisting of one person who rejects every suggested restaurant but never suggests another restaurant.
Asks for dates, books the table and eventually says “right, I’m just doing it.”
Supplies memes, screenshots and evidence from messages sent in 2022.
Every group develops rules that were never written down: which jokes are safe, who may change the chat name, whether voice notes are acceptable and exactly how long somebody can disappear before they are formally accused of being alive only on Instagram.
Then somebody says: “Can everyone confirm?”
This is the emergency broadcast. The silent members suddenly emerge. Side conversations merge back into the main chamber. Somebody asks a question already answered four messages above.
Against all odds, a plan is eventually produced. Half the group arrives late. The chat survives and immediately returns to nonsense.
The group chat is not organised. It is self-organising.
Nobody is officially in charge, which is why the person insisting they are not in charge is almost certainly in charge.
Humorous observational piece about group-chat behaviour.
