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missed a reader
Thursday, April 1 1999
John, the Editor in Chief at the internet startup for which I work, suffered several disillusioning experiences today. For starters, marketing and sales forced him to change the name of a section of our site from "SexRated" to "Basic Instinct" so that it would be more palatable to our advertisers and investors. I'm sure my readers are unanimous in their opinion on such a move. But it's worse than that; it's just plain stupid. SexRated was a genuine brandable term while Basic Instinct is cliché. Beyond that, as I pointed out to John, if I was an investor or an advertiser (a smart one, that is, and let's assume for the sake of the argument that they exist), then I wouldn't expect to "get" the humour our website dishes out, which is aimed at the college-aged demographic.
In other disillusioning things, John was also forced to prematurely yank a comic main page he'd prepared specifically for April Fool's Day. Apparently marketing, sales and the ever unseen "investors" somehow failed to get the humour in that one as well.
I was sympathetic, of course. John's talents might well be wasted on his present employer, but some day he'll make a name for himself. In the meantime, there's always his own site, ironically the thing that gave him the reputation he needed to get hired in the first place.
A miserable cold rain fell all day, and since no one was going my way home from work, I was forced to take the trolley and the bus, and this necessitated walking in the rain and then waiting a half hour outside under a tiny roof with almost no shelter from the wind. It was worse than any hitch hiking experience I've been on because I felt completely helpless; I was trapped in a city with a busy schedule and lots of people (and a Schnauzer) expecting me to be in various places at various times. In addition to my psycho-physical misery, I still have a cold. I didn't have a cough until after I'd waited for a bus in the cold and rain.
Some people repeatedly try to get in contact with me, and often I play along for a time, saying I'd be thrilled to hang out and drink a beer or whatever. But sometimes their persistence seems to indicate a nascent imbalance. Such was the case with Schwazi, a local reader from Pacific Beach. I never got together with him, never initiated any contact, and sort of strung him along because I have no time for my own girlfriend, let alone people I don't know. Eventually he stopped calling and we never met. Today I got this email from him:
Gus,
I'm leaving soon to spend the next year virtually electricity-free in
boondocks Minnesota. I can't help but think the several references to
"stalkers" in your March entries refer to myself, seeing as how I live
in your proximity and made a concerted effort to meet you.
To be quite honest, I once considered such a tactic, but opted for true
tact instead of tactlessness, and did so by contacting you in person.
And to be quite frank, I'm glad we never met. Albeit the initial
serendipity was intrigueing, I soon became incredibly bored and
disgusted with your character. Our paths diverge now, with much
happiness on my part.
You will reap what you sow, Gus.
I refer not only to your personal life, but your public and
technological one as well. I don't think you've got guts to ever do
what you dream of doing, and have fallen in deep love with a life of
complacency and ultimate Schteve-hood. Do you think you're ANY
different? Keep on clinging to whatever it is you think you are,
rationalizing your life as the good one. It's just what they're doing.
Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com
I guess I should count myself lucky that I never let this guy into my house.
Speaking of Schteve, the latest Heineken ad campaign is so blatantly geared towards the Schteve market, what with its irritating attempt at faux-literary humour, that I swear to Pywacket that I'll never drink another Heineken so long as I live.
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