Scam City

I love the internet ads that scream "Earn $5,000 a month using your computer!" or "Click here to find out how Nancy earned $2,000 in one day!" Do people actually fall for this garbage? I'm thinking yes, they do. So, I conducted a simple expertiment. I set up a junk email account and applied for one of these so-called "opporunities." And oh my Lord, the spam poured in like a tsumani in Sri Lanka.

A few of the prime "job" examples:

• Take surveys, get rewarded!
• How I made over 1 million dollars working at home last year
• Earn $25 per email you process
• We're transferring money to your account!
• Commission payment, attention, you MUST call your bank!
• Guide to $400,000 your first year, with no start-up costs!
• Just 30 clicks using single software, thousands of dollars per day!

From what I can see based on the subject lines of the emails, these supposed work-at-home jobs consist of this: Spamming people with every type of spam imaginable and then earning a few cents each time some moron clicks through the link. I say moron because only someone lacking functioning brain cells would actually click a link that advertises "Jackass Sweepstakes" and "Pay off your house in 5 years!" Clearly, by signing up for this "opportunity" I ended up on the idiot list, as I don't get these kinds of spam messages in my other email accounts.

The spam poured in at such an alarming rate, that I racked up 287 messages in my spam filter in the first 48 hours. Um, that's a lot of cyber junk mail. Imagine what that volume would look like in my real mailbox. That's the kind of volume the post office needs to stay in business!

So, when I say I'm looking for work-at-home or telecommuting jobs, what I really mean is "I'm looking for legitimate work with a legitimate company that doesn't involve spamming inboxes of stupid people with promises of meeting big, beautiful women online, free trips on luxury private jets or inflated credit scores." Oh, and don't even get me started on the number of times I've won the South African lottery. And, if you're wondering, "do people actually fall for that?" I'm here to tell you that yes, they do. I saw it on Dateline. Chris Hansen got tired of catching child predators, so he started looking for the brains (yes, brains!) behind the fake lottery scams. And we all know that you don't mess with Chris Hansen!

On the serious job front, the job search has come to a screaching halt. I haven't had a credible lead since late 2010. I haven't worked on a project since the week of Christmas. While I'm not going to panic, I am going to think of more creative ways to market myself. I'm working on a web site and a few other things, so hopefully something will turn up soon. In the meantime, I think I'll buy a lottery ticket. And I'm entertaining the idea of becoming a day trader. But I won't, under any circumstances, resort to spamming people for a living. So, I can promise you that the next email that guarantees instant wealth or an outrageous limit on your credit card didn't come from me.

Here's my favorite subject line of the last week: "Affordable forklifts to fit any workload!" Because you just never know when you might need a forklift, especially an affordable one...

Hot Sauce

So, my last post got me thinking about former coworkers and how I'm sure several of them would run in the opposite direction if they ever ran into me again. I'm absolutely sure that a certain someone from the book publishing days is glad I have left the state of Indiana forever, and I can't really blame her. Because of this:

Back at the book publisher in the late 90s. This super annoying woman, who we will call Penny, sat across from me. For some reason, she just bugged me. I can't really put my finger on it, but she was just someone that I wished would go away. One day, after a trip to Taco Bell, I had a genius idea. To this day I still don't really know what the heck came over me, I'll call it my inner 10-year-old. But, I put a packet of hot sauce on the floor in the hallway between our cubes and I jumped on it like I was launching a Nerf rocket. Well, it went flying directly at Penny's head and before she could move, duck, do anything really, it hit her right between the eyes. It was a perfect, beautiful shot. A direct hit. I swear that hot sauce traveled at a speed of 50 mph and I just stood there, watching in disbelief.

Now imagine this: Penny didn't find this incident to be humorous. She glared at me with hot sauce dripping off her nose, ears and chin, her hair plastered to her forehead. Who knew one little packet held so much sauce? I thought she was going to charge me, like an enraged rhinoceros. But she didn't. Instead, she cried. Oh no, not the tears! I hate crying at work. There's no crying at work! Simple rule: When your job makes you cry, you need a new one.

Not only was she crying, but she was carrying on about how I ruined her shirt and I would have to replace it. And, the shirt was from Banana Republic. Gasp! Oh no, not Banana Republic! There goes my paycheck.

Penny was also one of those desperately single people. You know the type, she would do anything to have a boyfriend, a husband, a man in her life. This was before the internet dating era, so her options were somewhat limited. So, she set her sights on Ed, aka Troff Boy (remember him, we met him here: http://kate-offtheclock.blogspot.com/2010/05/and-you-thought-your-coworkers-were.html) and made a play for him. A hardcore, suffocating, stalker play for him. And yes, he was immediately turned off.

It happened like this: A bunch of us went out one night and we met up at my apartment. Hot Sauce, as I was now affectionately referring to Penny, was bombed out of her mind. At one point, she ran out of the bathroom, with her pants around her ankles, because she heard Troff Boy's voice in the living room. Well, Troff Boy, wisely, decided to get the heck out of there for the obvious reasons. Hot Sauce followed him outside, attached to his leg, like a dog in heat. There was yelling and crying (again with the crying!) and eventually the police showed up. By then, drunk Hot Sauce was drunk driving herself home. Things were never quite the same again at work after that episode.

Now, I can't for the life of me imagine that Hot Sauce would stop and have a 5-minute conversation with me if we ever ran into each other again. And who can blame her? This incident occurred in 1998 and I can still picture that hot sauce, traveling in slow motion, and the look on her face as she watched the sauce approach. And I honestly just want to look her up today to say: I'm sorry for being such an immature idiot. Hmmm, perhaps it's time to do some Facebook searching. If I still lived in Indy, I'd offer to buy her lunch. At Taco Bell.

The Ties That Bind?

Question: If you run into an ex-coworker, isn't it realistic to think that you'll be able to have a 5-minute conversation about when you worked together and what you've been doing since you were last employees of the same company? Or, is that expectation just absurd?

I'm asking because I ran into a former coworker recently and it was awkward. And weird. And most definitely an epic fail. I'm still thinking about it because when I worked with this person, I liked her. We were friends. And we worked together so long ago that two presidents have been elected since we were coworkers, so clearly we should have had some catching up to do.

I've always thought that working together binds people together like graduating from the same high school. Or, at least it should. But, seeing how I am a big picture type of person, I see the big picture for what it actually is: Working together doesn't mean anything more than being on the same payroll.

Which means I need to rephrase this: We were friends. With this: We were friends AT WORK.

Most coworkers are not people you would seek out friendships with; you become friends because of circumstance. Sure, there are the rare coworkers that become your best friends, but for the most part, when the job ends, so do the relationships with coworkers. This is one I have struggled with for the last year as I've tried to move on from the Prison era and rebuild my life with people I like and trust. There are a few people on the fence and I have yet to decide where they will land. But, I think the defining factor is simple: If you had my back during the India Project; you're in. If you didn't, you're out and you're never coming back in.

Which brings me back to the opening of this post. If you work with someone for years and get along just fine, why can't you have a quick conversation when you run into each other years later? Oh that's right, it's because some people just plain suck. There, I feel better.

Corporate Brat

I'm writing a book. If you really know me, then that isn't exactly a newsflash. However, I've finally figured out exactly what I want my book to be. Now, it is true that part of the book is a 13-year work in progress. The original book, Off the Clock, was all about corporate America. Hence the blog. The new book, Corporate Brat, sort of bookends Off the Clock and will be much more interesting. Of course, I'm biased.

The title is a play on words. It's partly a play on how I grew up and how that term relates to military kids who grow up moving all over the place. Then it's about me: A grown-up corporate brat. Did I handle the Prison Media situation like a brat? Perhaps. I took my knowledge and went home. And instead of sticking my tongue out at them, I told the whole world what superficial, back-stabbing, horrific jerks they are. Is that bratty? Depends, I suppose. But, it sure was fun. Most importantly, if I could back and do it differently would I? Absolutely not. But, will the India Project be the defining moment in my career? Quite possibly. And I'm OK with that.

So, I ask you, my readers: Would you read Corporate Brat? Should I change the title? And who should play me in the movie? I already have Steve Buscemi pegged to play Boss. And John Cusack is so playing The Husband. And yes, this is how I spend my evenings when all is quiet on the western front. Sweet dreams.

Friday Night Lights Out

So, my favorite show of the last decade (and maybe all-time) is Friday Night Lights. The series finale is on Wednesday and I think I'll need a box of Kleenex for that episode.

Last week's episode featured an intense plot line with Tami and Eric Taylor (i.e., the football coach and his wife). The wife has just been offered the job of a lifetime and the husband is less than thrilled. Or, more appropriately, he's being an unsupportive, selfish moron. I was so enraged watching the show and I kept calling Eric a jerk and pointing out how he can't get past his own issues and be happy for his wife. The Husband offered this insulting bit to the conversation: "Hello, it's a TV show. It's not like you know them; they're made up characters on a TV show." Um, HELLO! Of course I know them! I've been watching them for 5 seasons and they feel like family to me. Not only are they the most realistic marriage on TV, but they're real people with real issues. (Yes, I am in denial.) And I am not the only one thinks this is a phenomenal show. If you've never watched it, rent the DVDs and give it a go. You'll be hooked 15 minutes into the pilot.

The Taylors scenario got me to thinking: If I was offered the job of a lifetime, would The Husband give up his job and follow me? His answer: "If it means I could have a Porsche, yes. Definitely." Which creates the larger question: "Just what is my dream job?"

I mean really, I've only had an entire year to ponder this, so one would think I could answer that question in a flash. But sadly, I can't. The answer is long and complex. For example, does my dream job need to pay the bills (see 1), or does it just need to fulfill my desire to work (see 2)? Does the dream job require me to go to an office every day (see 3), or is this the dream job that allows me to work from home (see 4)? And yes, those are two separate answers. And lastly, does the dream job even exist (see 5)?

1. If I do need to pay the bills, gym teacher is on the top of the list.

2. If I don't need to pay the bills, coaching soccer is on the top of the list.

3. The dream job at an office would be EW production manager.

4. The dream job at home would be a blogger who gets paid. And I don't mean gets paid $.015 for every click through from AdSense. I'm talking set amount per post.

5. I'm starting to think that the dream job is as elusive as Big Foot or the Loch Ness Monster.

I have a lot to think about on the job front, not to mention the dream job front. In the meantime, I have 5 days left to prepare for the big FNL send-off. My guess is that the Coach follows his wife on her dream job adventure and all is well that ends well. And yes, maybe it is only a TV show, but it definitely falls into the art imitating life category. Ya gotta love when real, scripted TV is way more "real" that reality TV.

There are 6 words that I will always carry around with me from FNL:

Clear eyes. Full hearts. Can't lose.

Check out this awesome article in the LA Times:

http://www.latimes.com/entertainment/news/tv/la-ca-friday-night-lights-fnl-20110206,0,5776335.story?page=1