Internet Commerce Expo

There are more exhibitors than visitors, and all the visitors are standing in the line at the Yahoo booth to have half a minute in a wind tunnel trying to catch dollar bills. Anyone who is standing in a line to catch seven dollars is not making enough money on the Internet to warrant attendance at the Internet Commerce Expo.

I check my messages with my calling card because I am trying to get a job so good that the calling card fees don't matter. My head-hunter left a message that Merisel hired someone else. She says, "Merisel wants someone who can do everything—graphics, database programming, and writing."

Excuse me, but what other industry requires database programmers to write marketing copy? This is why I hate the Internet fucking Commerce Expo—everyone thinks they're an expert at everything. And there will be a cocktail party when someone says to this programmer-artist-writer wank, What do you do? And the new Merisel person will say, I'm the Webmaster, and everyone at the party will think, WOW, that's so COOL, wow, that's so HIP, and the Webmaster will think that too.

The crowd by the phones is thick, and stuck. I want a cell phone. The first time I called my office from a convention, I felt so important, so BUSY, so NEEDED. Now I could sit in bed and eat chocolate all day and no one would care.

I would have insisted that Merisel made me Director of Web Site Development or something. I'd have never settled for Webmaster, so who cares if I didn't get the job? I call my head-hunter to say, Fuck you. But I just say thanks instead.

She says she has another position for me at a modem company. She says she thinks it pays more than the Merisel job, and I get giddy.

I ask about the other positions—off-handedly, not like please please please.

She says, "The rest are high-level jobs. They wouldn't fit you. Like director of marketing."

"Oh," I say.

And now I need another cookie. I have been telling so many head-hunters that I won't take under 80K that I feel like I'm already making 80K, so when reality hits, every once in a while, and I remember I'm making 60K, I can't believe it. I get so pissed. And then I hear the director of IT is making 60k, and I think I'm a stud. Or he's a loser. Or, I don't know what to think. And now I hear t hat 95K is not high-level. And how can I decide ANYTHING? Everytime I think I know what is impressive, it changes. And I am never impressed, and I'm annoying even to myself.

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