Slido at the SC Forum: A Tool Is Only as Good as How We Use It

The SC Forum weekend was an awesome opportunity to learn, share ideas, and work with people from different backgrounds and perspectives. One tool that helped bring participants into the conversation was Slido.

Slido is an audience participation platform used at meetings and events. Participants can submit questions, respond to live polls, and vote on questions or comments. Depending on how an event is set up, people can also post anonymously. That can make it easier for more voices to be heard, especially from people who might not want to speak in front of a room. Slido’s live Q&A features include anonymous questions and audience upvoting.

For much of the weekend, Slido was used as intended: to ask thoughtful questions, share relevant comments, and take part in votes. The screenshots also show a few moments when the tool was used for jokes or off-topic remarks. Those comments may have seemed harmless to the people posting them, but they pulled attention away from the work and the forum's purpose.

Anonymity can help people participate more freely, but it also asks us to take personal responsibility for what we contribute. A useful question to ask before posting is: Does this help the conversation move forward?

I also used Slido to thank the team for the opportunity and for a meaningful weekend. I chose to attach my name to that comment. I wanted the appreciation to be personal and direct.

The best tools make participation easier. How we use those tools best depends on the people in the room. Slido gave us a way to ask, respond, and vote; each of us had to use that opportunity with care.

From Common Ground to Measurable Progress in South Carolina

This afternoon, the SC Forum wraps up—and I’m leaving impressed by what can happen when people with different opinions, backgrounds, and ideologies come together around a shared purpose: making a meaningful difference for families in South Carolina.

Nine groups have been working on ideas to improve families’ livelihoods through better career opportunities. The conversations have included topics like the SC Works website and apprenticeship programs. The goal is to develop bill recommendations for the state legislature.

That’s ambitious work. And wearing my Learning & Development hat, I keep coming back to one question: Are we making these recommendations S.M.A.R.T.?

For anyone unfamiliar with the framework, S.M.A.R.T. goals are:

• Specific

• Measurable

• Actionable

• Realistic

• Time-bound

It’s easy—and understandable—to say we want to “make things better.” But what would “better” look like for someone using SC Works? What would a stronger apprenticeship program accomplish, and for whom? How will we know whether a change is working? When will we start measuring, and when will we review the results? Is the goal ambitious but achievable?

These questions aren’t about shrinking the vision or chasing the easiest win. They’re about giving a good idea a clear path to results. A bill recommendation should make it clear what action is proposed, who is responsible, what progress looks like, and when that progress will be assessed.

My two cents: government and public policy could benefit from more of the practical tools used in the corporate and private sectors. Clear objectives, measures of success, timelines, and regular reviews can help turn a shared aspiration into accountable work.

The Forum’s strength is bringing different people to the same table. The next step is making sure the ideas we carry forward are clear enough to act on—and concrete enough to measure. That’s how common ground can lead to lasting impact for South Carolina families.

Officially Local TV Famous (With a Face for Radio)

It’s official: I’ve been quoted in a local TV news article, and my mug made it into the TV segment. For everyone who reads my insanity, you can now say you know a TV star.

Okay, that’s a mild exaggeration. But the article and video are both here: South Carolina Forum brings residents together on wages and cost of living.

This isn’t my first brush with fame. Back in fifth grade at Drexel Elementary School in Westbury, New York, my advanced placement class got its first personal computer. It was a big old machine with a green-and-black screen and a cassette tape drive. It took about 30 minutes to load Space Invaders. The Westbury Times covered it, and there I was—premiered in the local paper before I even had a driver’s license.

I've had a few other moments in the spotlight. I think the Westbury Times—or possibly Newsday—featured me talking with incoming exchange students on their way to meet their host families after my stint in France.

I also won a literary contest for a poem about the AIDS epidemic, sponsored by People Taking Action Against AIDS. I won some money, gave a speech, and attended an afternoon gala at a lovely Long Island manor. Then I wound up in the New York Times Metro section. My father heard about it from a colleague at work, which is a pretty great way to find out your kid made the Times.

Later, I sent a press release to local media about our fraternity’s effort to keep its chapter house at 336 Convent Avenue after national-level mismanagement put it at risk. The New York Times ran a photo of me in the house with a caption and my name. Once again, my father got the news from someone at work.

I’ve always said I have a face for radio. Apparently, every so often, the camera disagrees.

Jokes aside, I’m proud to have been asked to take part in the South Carolina Forum. The point wasn’t to get on television; it was to join a conversation about the issues people are facing and how we can make progress together. People bring different experiences and viewpoints to these discussions. Listening to one another—and finding areas where we can agree—is how we build ideas that can move beyond the room and make a difference.

I hope the forum’s conversations help inform the South Carolina legislative session and show that people can work together across differences. That’s the kind of attention I’m most proud of.

The Hinge Experiment: Wait… I Have a Match!

Well, this is awkward.

When I was considering whether The Hinge Experiment™ had run its course, Hinge apparently heard me.

I got a match.

Her name is Airica.

And even more shocking?

We're already talking about meeting Sunday.

Steve the Iguana may have to unpack his bags. 🦎

From Zero Matches to Airica

My last Hinge update wasn't exactly optimistic.

My match queue was empty.

Matches: 0.
Conversations: 0.
Dates: 0.

Meanwhile, traffic to NielFlamm.com was doing considerably better than my dating life.

I was legitimately starting to wonder whether it was time to delete Hinge and move along. After all, there's only so much entertainment I can squeeze out of screenshots saying:

“No matches right now.”

Apparently, Hinge took that personally.

This morning, I liked one of Airica's pictures.

Five minutes later?

💋

Well, hello there.

A response!

From a human!

This changes everything.

Okay, probably not everything. Calm down, Niel.

And We Already Have Something in Common

I noticed that Airica had lived in Las Vegas.

I lived there for about ten years, so I immediately had something to ask about.

My opening wasn't Shakespeare:

“Good morning! Where did you live in Vegas? I lived there for 10 years…”

But I've already established during this experiment that I don't exactly spit mad game.

I'm more of a:

“Hello. Here is a relevant question based upon information you voluntarily provided. Would you care to discuss?”

kind of guy.

Somehow, despite this irresistible charm, the conversation continued.

And now we're making plans for Sunday.

Yes.

An actual day.

For an actual potential date.

With an actual person.

WHAT IS HAPPENING?

There Is One Small Issue

Airica is in Lexington, South Carolina.

That's about a 90-minute drive for me.

Some people might look at that and immediately say:

“Too far.”

I don't.

I like driving.

An hour and a half isn't exactly a commute I'd want to make every morning, but for an opportunity to meet someone I'm interested in?

That's manageable.

Besides, I've spent longer than 90 minutes scrolling through dating profiles with absolutely nothing to show for it.

At least this drive has a destination.

And if we meet and discover there's chemistry?

Then we figure out geography.

If we meet and discover there isn't?

I had a Sunday drive.

There are considerably worse outcomes.

Let's Not Get Ahead of Ourselves

If you've followed The Hinge Experiment, you already know I've learned this lesson.

A match isn't a date.

A conversation isn't a date.

Making plans for a date isn't even necessarily a date.

Until two human beings are physically sitting in the same place at the same time, I'm keeping the champagne firmly corked.

Actually, let's make that Coke Zero.

But this already feels different from some of my previous matches because we're actually discussing meeting.

That's what I've wanted all along.

I'm not looking for an eternal Hinge pen pal.

I'm not trying to collect matches.

I'm not interested in exchanging “Good morning!” messages until Social Security sends us both birthday cards.

Let's meet.

Have a conversation.

Laugh.

Eat something.

See whether we enjoy being around each other.

Dating apps are supposed to be the introduction—not the entire relationship.

So Much for Deleting Hinge

And here is perhaps the funniest part.

I was asking:

Is it time to delete the app?

Hinge apparently responded:

“Not so fast, Baldy.”

Fair enough.

The experiment gets an extension.

As of right now:

Matches: 1.

Active conversations: 1.

Potential Sunday dates: 1.

Distance: About 1½ hours.

Niel's expectations: Cautiously optimistic.

Steve the Iguana: Furious. 🦎

Sorry, Steve.

You're back on the bench.

At least until Sunday.

Because if this date actually happens, The Hinge Experiment will finally accomplish something I've been trying to make happen since I started it:

A date from a dating app.

What a concept.

Stay tuned.

This could get inter

esting.

Well, That Was Fast: I Got My First Hinge Match

Remember when I said the Tinder experiment was over and I had moved on to The Hinge?

Remember when I wondered how long it would take before I got a match?

Apparently, the answer was:

Not very long.

I woke up this morning and got a bit of a late start. No dialysis today, so there wasn't an alarm dragging me out of bed at an ungodly hour. I eventually got myself moving, checked my email, and there it was:

“Niel and Kelli, you matched!”

Wait.

WHAT?

I actually matched with someone?

On a dating app?

Already?

I was surprised.

I was amazed.

And against everything I've learned from online dating thus far, I was even a little...

Hopeful.

Her name is Kelli, and she's in Conway, South Carolina.

That's roughly an hour away from me.

Some people might look at that distance and say, “That's kind of far.”

I look at it and say:

I like to drive.

Problem solved.

But First, I Had Stuff to Do

Despite receiving this potentially historic notification, I didn't immediately drop everything and begin crafting the greatest opening line in the history of online dating.

I had things to do.

Also, let's establish something very important:

I don't spit mad game.

There was no:

"Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?"

No carefully researched pickup line.

No ChatGPT-generated Shakespearean sonnet about her eyes.

I eventually opened the conversation with:

“Hello Kelli! How are you coping with the stupid heat and humidity?”

Smooth?

Debatable.

Authentic?

Absolutely.

Because it is stupid hot and humid.

We're in South Carolina in August. You can walk outside for four minutes and somehow need another shower.

So rather than pretending I'm some suave dating-app Casanova, I went with something every person in South Carolina can currently agree upon:

Why is the air wet?

And now...

I wait.

This Is Where the Experiment Gets Interesting

The first hurdle has officially been cleared.

I got a match.

Now we move on to Phase Two of The Hinge Experiment.

Will Kelli respond?

Will we have an actual conversation?

Will we discover we have things in common?

Could there eventually be a drive to Conway—or somewhere in between—to actually meet another human being in person?

Or will the universe continue its recent tradition of using dating apps to teach me valuable lessons about cryptocurrency, WhatsApp, and international investment opportunities?

I don't know.

But right now, I'm choosing optimism.

A real match appeared.

I sent a completely normal message.

She's about an hour away.

I like driving.

And, most importantly, nobody has tried to sell me anything yet.

This is already progress.

Now we wait.

Pray with me, Forest. Pray with me.