1. Añade un subtitulo adecuado
Debajo del nombre de tu página hay espacio para escribir un subtítulo. Solo las 10 primeras palabras son visibles. Haz que ese subtítulo sea descriptivo y utiliza palabras claves de tu negocio.
2. Añade fotos en tu mural
Puedes añadir 5 fotos en tu mural. Mi consejo es que visites mi artículo: Consejos para colocar fotos en el mural de Google Plus
3. Añade tu descripción
En el área donde se describe a la empresa hay una área de presentación. Utiliza palabras claves que identifiquen tu mercado y el nombre de la empresa según tu estrategia SEO pero de una forma natural y entendible para el lector.
Si quieres puedes utilizar formatos en el texto como subrayado, cursiva, etc; también puedes incluir enlaces a tus otras redes sociales o páginas web. De una forma que sea contextual a lo que has escrito. Recuerda que Google presta mucha atención a las palabras resaltadas en negrita (bold) que envían a un sitio web.
4. Añade enlaces recomendados
Nunca olvides recomendar enlaces, esta sección esta a lado de la presentación, el punto 3 que acabamos de hablar. En este espacio puedes colocar con más libertar enlaces a tus sitio web principal, blog, redes sociales, páginas internas, etc.
5. Utiliza los emblemas de Google+
Google ha creado un sistema que permite asociar la página de Google Plus con el sitio web, es necesario asocial la página web o blog con nuesta página en Google+, de esta forma hay una retroalimentación de ambas iniciativas digitales. Puedes acceder aquí ha esta opción Google+ Badge.
Al asociar la página recibes una gran ventaja en el buscador de Google, cada vez que una persona busque a tu empresa y coloque “+” y el nombre, el buscador automáticamente la enviará a tu página en Google+.
6. Conseguir seguidores
Conseguir seguidores siempre es un reto para cualquier red social que utilices como Facebook o Twitter, principalmente cuando estamos buscando a los primeros 100.
Las páginas de Google+ o los Fanpage de Facebook no son como Twitter, donde podemos seguir a nuestros prospectos antes que nos sigan a nosotros. En cambio debes convencerlos a que te sigan primero para luego que la plataforma de permita seguirlos, aunque Facebook no te permite seguirlos solamente enviarles tus publicaciones. Por otro lado Google Plus si te permite seguir a los que te siguen.
El truco en esto es lograr que los usuarios que te están siguiendo inviten a otros para que te sigan. Para ello debemos tener una línea de tiempo actualizada y enviar nuestra página Google+ en todos nuestros canales Social Media que dispongamos como Twitter, Facebook, Blog, Email, Linked In, Flickr, etc.
En el momento que tienes nuevos seguidores debes seguirlos a ellos colocandolos en círculos apropiados según la estrategia que estimes para la difusión de tus mensajes y publicaciones.
Recomiendo que leas: 12 consejos para usar Google+ para los negocios aunque este artículo esta enfocado a perfiles personales, hay algunas opciones que se pueden utilizar para las páginas de Google+.
7. Desarrollar contenido
Como cualquier otra red social que utilices como canal informativo debes desarrollar contenido relevante y dentro del contexto del negocio que estas ejecutando.
Recuerda que puedes utilizar fotos y vídeos porque el sistema de Google Plus es mucho mejor que el de Facebook para llamar la atención.
Fuente: Virante.com
domingo, noviembre 27, 2011
domingo, noviembre 06, 2011
El envejecimiento de la democracia española
The Aging of Spanish Democracy
By JONATHAN BLITZER
Madrid
ALL unextraordinary men, the Uruguayan novelist Juan Carlos Onetti once wrote, are “already coming apart” once they’ve turned 40. After that, it’s the beginning of the end. This may be nowhere truer than in politics, where the younger you start, the more likely you’ll turn a premature gray.
In Spain now, the political class is aging and, as Onetti warned, it is a maturity that smacks of senescence.
On Nov. 20, the 36th anniversary of Francisco Franco’s death, Spaniards will choose between a 60-year-old Socialist, Alfredo Pérez Rubalcaba, and a 56-year-old conservative, Mariano Rajoy. By the standards of this fledgling democracy, only 34 years old itself, these men are old, and a sign that that their parties have not aged well. Since the end of the Franco dictatorship in 1975, all of the elected prime ministers had been young, in their 40s when they took office.
The reformer Adolfo Suárez, 48 at the time, was forced to quit in 1981 amid an irrepressible tide of disenchantment with his leadership, which a younger generation felt was stained by the institutions and mentalities of old. The charismatic Felipe González, who resoundingly won election the following year, at 40, left the Moncloa Palace, the official residence, under scandal in 1996. His successor, the conservative José María Aznar, was 43. But by 2004, after embroiling Spain in the Iraq war, Mr. Aznar had soured his party’s chances; after a terrorist attack days before the election, the 43-year-old Socialist José Luis Rodríguez Zapatero emerged as the victor. Now his unpopularity has brought early elections.
Mr. Zapatero’s demise seems to mark the end of the line. In lieu of a fresh visage to replace him are stalwart survivors of partisan infighting, facing an electorate ever more cynical about political solutions to an economic and social quagmire. Call it a democracy’s midlife crisis.
The choice now, one columnist lamented in El País, is between politicians who have long been the “No. 2 men” of their parties — Mr. Rubalcaba a tactician and technocrat and Mr. Rajoy a two-time loser (2004 and 2008). Neither has sounded the clarion call of youthful renewal that echoed from Mr. González to Mr. Zapatero.
“The political class could have renewed itself but has not,” said the Spanish novelist Javier Cercas, who wrote “The Anatomy of a Moment,” an account of a 1981 coup attempt and the fall of Mr. Suárez.
The history of Franco’s twilight years, and the transition to democracy that followed, explains the generational trend. With a young left taking shape in the mid-1970s, and a right desperate to outrun its associations with Franco, fresh-faced leaders embodied regeneration. At every turn since, candidates talked of new beginnings — until now, when fresh ideas are scarce. Spain’s government is in thrall to Brussels, and the social safety net is fraying. Both parties vow not to cut social services too deeply, but the public knows that more austerity is coming. So there is no change to believe in, and the public has turned salty in its indignation.
And this is the fatal twist: the longer a politician has been at it, the harder it is to wash his hands of a partisan taint.
A big part of the disillusionment, said the historian Santos Juliá, “is the dominance of partisanship and politicization.” Mr. Cercas agreed: “This is not a democracy, but a partitocracy, a government by the parties. When democracy took root, the political class was concerned that political parties didn’t exist.”
Back then, many parties were still illegal, as they were under Franco. So, Mr. Cercas said, “the political class made sure to create a strong partisan tradition.”
Now, however, the formulas for apportioning electoral districts have effectively concentrated power in the hands of the two major parties, and Spain’s myriad smaller parties cannot compete.
In the late 1970s the formulas made more sense, but in 2011 they rankle as an odd residue of the transition. Meanwhile, exhausted politicians use the ethos of strong parties as an excuse to invoke party unity, and answer to the electorate later. After the Socialists were decimated in local elections last May, the party closed ranks around Mr. Rubalcaba to avoid divisive primaries before national elections. It was a puzzling, but revealing, reaction to a public rebuke at the ballot box.
Popular ire, meanwhile, has shifted to the two-party system itself — especially to “closed” or “blocked” lists of candidates that voters don’t control. A recent study of select provinces revealed that more than half of conservatives and one-third of Socialists on the lists were being investigated for corruption.
A youth protest movement has been decrying the unresponsiveness of the political class with twin slogans: “The politicians don’t represent us” and “They call it democracy, but it’s not that.” Recent polls found that only about 55 percent of these “indignados” turned out to vote in municipal elections (10 percent less than the national average). Of those who did, 15 percent cast blank ballots.
If Spain’s famed transition brought it democratic institutions, the present moment may well be exposing the limits of their promise. Many Spaniards are still proud of the transition as a model for achieving civic maturity. But in a newer age of enfeebled democracy, a younger generation is having a falling-out with government itself.
Jonathan Blitzer is a journalist and translator based in Madrid.
By JONATHAN BLITZER
Madrid
ALL unextraordinary men, the Uruguayan novelist Juan Carlos Onetti once wrote, are “already coming apart” once they’ve turned 40. After that, it’s the beginning of the end. This may be nowhere truer than in politics, where the younger you start, the more likely you’ll turn a premature gray.
In Spain now, the political class is aging and, as Onetti warned, it is a maturity that smacks of senescence.
On Nov. 20, the 36th anniversary of Francisco Franco’s death, Spaniards will choose between a 60-year-old Socialist, Alfredo Pérez Rubalcaba, and a 56-year-old conservative, Mariano Rajoy. By the standards of this fledgling democracy, only 34 years old itself, these men are old, and a sign that that their parties have not aged well. Since the end of the Franco dictatorship in 1975, all of the elected prime ministers had been young, in their 40s when they took office.
The reformer Adolfo Suárez, 48 at the time, was forced to quit in 1981 amid an irrepressible tide of disenchantment with his leadership, which a younger generation felt was stained by the institutions and mentalities of old. The charismatic Felipe González, who resoundingly won election the following year, at 40, left the Moncloa Palace, the official residence, under scandal in 1996. His successor, the conservative José María Aznar, was 43. But by 2004, after embroiling Spain in the Iraq war, Mr. Aznar had soured his party’s chances; after a terrorist attack days before the election, the 43-year-old Socialist José Luis Rodríguez Zapatero emerged as the victor. Now his unpopularity has brought early elections.
Mr. Zapatero’s demise seems to mark the end of the line. In lieu of a fresh visage to replace him are stalwart survivors of partisan infighting, facing an electorate ever more cynical about political solutions to an economic and social quagmire. Call it a democracy’s midlife crisis.
The choice now, one columnist lamented in El País, is between politicians who have long been the “No. 2 men” of their parties — Mr. Rubalcaba a tactician and technocrat and Mr. Rajoy a two-time loser (2004 and 2008). Neither has sounded the clarion call of youthful renewal that echoed from Mr. González to Mr. Zapatero.
“The political class could have renewed itself but has not,” said the Spanish novelist Javier Cercas, who wrote “The Anatomy of a Moment,” an account of a 1981 coup attempt and the fall of Mr. Suárez.
The history of Franco’s twilight years, and the transition to democracy that followed, explains the generational trend. With a young left taking shape in the mid-1970s, and a right desperate to outrun its associations with Franco, fresh-faced leaders embodied regeneration. At every turn since, candidates talked of new beginnings — until now, when fresh ideas are scarce. Spain’s government is in thrall to Brussels, and the social safety net is fraying. Both parties vow not to cut social services too deeply, but the public knows that more austerity is coming. So there is no change to believe in, and the public has turned salty in its indignation.
And this is the fatal twist: the longer a politician has been at it, the harder it is to wash his hands of a partisan taint.
A big part of the disillusionment, said the historian Santos Juliá, “is the dominance of partisanship and politicization.” Mr. Cercas agreed: “This is not a democracy, but a partitocracy, a government by the parties. When democracy took root, the political class was concerned that political parties didn’t exist.”
Back then, many parties were still illegal, as they were under Franco. So, Mr. Cercas said, “the political class made sure to create a strong partisan tradition.”
Now, however, the formulas for apportioning electoral districts have effectively concentrated power in the hands of the two major parties, and Spain’s myriad smaller parties cannot compete.
In the late 1970s the formulas made more sense, but in 2011 they rankle as an odd residue of the transition. Meanwhile, exhausted politicians use the ethos of strong parties as an excuse to invoke party unity, and answer to the electorate later. After the Socialists were decimated in local elections last May, the party closed ranks around Mr. Rubalcaba to avoid divisive primaries before national elections. It was a puzzling, but revealing, reaction to a public rebuke at the ballot box.
Popular ire, meanwhile, has shifted to the two-party system itself — especially to “closed” or “blocked” lists of candidates that voters don’t control. A recent study of select provinces revealed that more than half of conservatives and one-third of Socialists on the lists were being investigated for corruption.
A youth protest movement has been decrying the unresponsiveness of the political class with twin slogans: “The politicians don’t represent us” and “They call it democracy, but it’s not that.” Recent polls found that only about 55 percent of these “indignados” turned out to vote in municipal elections (10 percent less than the national average). Of those who did, 15 percent cast blank ballots.
If Spain’s famed transition brought it democratic institutions, the present moment may well be exposing the limits of their promise. Many Spaniards are still proud of the transition as a model for achieving civic maturity. But in a newer age of enfeebled democracy, a younger generation is having a falling-out with government itself.
Jonathan Blitzer is a journalist and translator based in Madrid.
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