Kidnapped
January 7, 1999


I discovered the following anguished message in my cyber mailbox late last night, from a Concerned Reader:

"Later that day? OK--what???? I went to all the trouble to log on for no messages and no finished web page. How's the job search going???"

Sorry, Mom.

I never made it back to the website yesterday, obviously. The morning and early afternoon passed in the blink of an eye: one minute I was filling the kitchen sink with hot water and detergent, and firing up the tea kettle, and preparing to launch another résumé out into the cybersphere ...

[blink]

... and the next minute it was mid-afternoon, and the spaghetti dishes from the night before were still sitting in a sinkful of cold greasy water, and my tea cup was empty, and the little chyron at the bottom of my computer monitor advised me that I'd been online for "four hours and fifty-seven minutes."

It was all David's fault, of course.

He's the one who brought home the 1999 Business Directory from work, for one thing. I probably visited every commercial website in the entire Bay Area yesterday ... depositing my little virtual résumé everywhere I went, like a demented Internet Easter Bunny leaving *deposits* on unsuspecting doorsteps.

And David is the one who managed to find -- and bring home  --  TWO boxes of my beloved Fast Lane Tea the other day. My brain has been running at full-throttle ever since. It certainly helped fuel yesterday's frenzied Internet marathon.

And by the time I was finished with the jobsearch stuff for the day and was ready to post something on the website ...

...David was walking in the door, two hours earlier than expected, all revved up and inviting me to drive to Sausalito with him. What was I gonna say? ("No thanks, honey ... I would rather stay home and write about spaghetti on the website some more.") So I allowed him to *kidnap* me, and we went for a long goofy drive across the Richmond-San Rafael Bridge, and I got to see San Quentin Prison from a distance, and we drove through El Cerrito (home of the Fogerty Brothers), and later we stopped at a little music store that carried not one but TWO Wanda Jackson CD boxed sets ...

... and by the time we got home it was sorta late, and David was standing in the kitchen in my green flowered bathrobe, cooking lemon pasta and green beans for our dinner, and who the heck could *focus* on a website with THAT sort of distraction, anyway ... ?

We'll try and do better today.



Later That Day (This Time We Mean It) ...

Interesting replies to yesterday's frenzied bout of résumé-posting are beginning to trickle in, this afternoon.

It's not exactly an avalanche or anything ... and most of the replies are obviously auto-responses ("To whom it may concern/Thank you for your interest/We will keep your résumé on file/Mind if we place you on our permanent lifetime mailing list for thrilling updates about our goods & services?") ...

... but a couple of companies took the time and trouble to write me an actual e-mail, digitally signed by an actual digital human being ("To whom it may concern/Thank you for your interest/We will keep your résumé on file/Mind if we place you on our permanent lifetime mailing list for thrilling updates about our goods & services?/Sincerely, So-And-So Somethingorother, Director of Human Resources"). And I find that heartening.

Clearly I am on the right track here.

And no, I'm not depending solely on the Internet to help me find a job. It's simply one of the tools I'm using, mainly because it's cheap and it's quick and it's thorough, and because a good way to find a job doing something you love (in my case, using computers) is to demonstrate some proficic ... some profienc ... some proficic ...

... some SKILL at it ...

... and because when you're brand-new to an area it's a lot easier to navigate your way around on the Internet than to navigate on, say, BART (especially when you haven't memorized your home phone number yet) ...

... and yeah, because I can sit here and job-hunt in the green flowered bathrobe once in awhile. When David isn't wearing it, I mean. Anything wrong with that?

(Now I'll get the constipated little e-mails scolding me for not taking my job-hunting seriously enough. Sigh.)

The bottom line here? I have never in my life had any problem finding a decent job within a reasonable interval, when I put my mind (and abilities) to it. In fact, there have been a couple of times, in my life, where I had my choice of fabulous jobs. (She thinks back to January of 1979, when she was offered a position as a receptionist for Ridgway Packaging Corporation in Redmond, WA -- proud manufacurer of canned tuna labels -- and another position as a receptionist for some-or-another podunk computer company, up the road. MicroSomething. She, of course, opted for the Tuna Label Job ... and the rest, as they say, is history ...)

Today's *Special Note* goes to ...

... my pal Edmund -- he of the exquisitely *minimalist* AOL profile -- who is apparently running the company by himself these days. Cheer the hell up, wouldya? It's like Grandma used to say to me every morning, when she was brushing my hair for school ... "Secra," she used to say, "You're born, and then life goes hideously awry, and then you die. Get over it." Those are words I've always cherished. I hope they help you, too. I love ya, ya big dumb Shnoop.

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