The Austin event this weekend, basically, the last show of the year, is “way up yonder,” perhaps too close to Dallas for my tastes: North Austin. But I’m sure I’ll survive an arduous journey so far north.
I remember working there, close to ten years ago, when the place was a Hilton. Same location, different name. Hope they have wireless now.
Incoming mail:
|> I finally went and downloaded the program so I can watch your
|> message as well as listen to it.
|> I liked it, since your facial expressions and body language
|> add to the whole message an extra soupcon of meaning.
|> All you needed to finish off the image was a parrot.
Mail cycled through as I was digging in the dirty clothes to find a bandana to wear. No, see, it’s not a pirate thing. It’s a “keep my hair out of my face” thing. Naturally, I wouldn’t worry that other people confused me for a pirate, you know, the free-spirit, the open seas, ports-o-call with wenches and saucy barrels of rum?
Wouldn’t want to interfere with any misconceptions here, other than I live like a monk.
I was thinking about that bandana because I wore one the other weekend, again, a matter of convenience, not style, but I got the pirate comment then, too.
I started wearing bandanas when I was working the “psychic sweatshops,” and my final arrangement was a cheap headset with about 75 feet of phone cord. Couldn’t do the laundry, but I could do just about everything else while lashed to the phone. Cordless phones weren’t an option at the time.
Now that it’s cold out, I wear a bandana to keep the hair out of the microphone’s earpiece. Earpiece’s microphone. One of those.
The “psychic sweatshops” were cleaned up by the IRS, or some labor board. Or something. And I quit working them because $3.99 per minute is a little steep, especially when the other end of the deal, what I got paid, was considerably less. I found an ad, the content of the article wasn’t very good, but the advertising was engaging, for a product that was made in a “100% sweat-shop free labor cooperative,” or something like that. Sounds a little “left-coast-ish,” but that was what the words suggested.
I admire that, and I’d like to think that this place is a sweat-shop free environment. But it’s not. I need to turn the tens of thousands of regular visitors – 10% would be fine – into regular subscriptions.
Mercury notes:
I finally caved in and called tech support. I don’t know how long my luck will old out, but the hosting tech support was a native English speaker, albeit yankee, but most yankees can be schmoozed with some southern charm. Not only was a problem solved – I was bumped up to 2nd level tech support, and then I was directed to another solution to a problem I didn’t even have. Only took 4 hours Thursday night, and another four hours Friday morning. Plus another half-dozen calls to another tech support. Each time, native English speaker. I wonder, how long will this hold out?
The solution to the problems? What’s nice about that? The problem? It wasn’t my fault. Maybe that’s why the tech support was so kind. I’d like to think it was my charm, tho.
Marketing!
Bandwidth and bait: DIY promotions (self-made advertising clip).
Unrelated, tasteless and vulgar:
But wait, it gets worse: The nice point about the Apples? Less tech support. I’m not really a prude. Or maybe I am. And the hits keep coming. Top that with bad noise, tho.
