Author: Joey deVilla

Problem number one:

My former roomate owes me a lot of money for back rent, the largest domestic phone bill I’ve ever seen, half a year’s worth of groceries and other miscellaneous expenses. Let’s simply say that the figure we’re talking about here covers the purchase of at least one Segway. Said former roomate is also in financial binds of his own, so the chances that he’ll be able to pay me sometime soon is pretty slim.

Problem number two:

My financial situation isn’t all that hot. Absorbing the roomate’s costs while being unemployed, then being employed by a company that ran out of money and now owes me back pay wiped out my savings. The job search isn’t moving quickly enough; I’m either getting rejected or sitting in waiting-for-second-interview Hell. Accordion playing is actually covering my groceries at the moment. I don’t want to have to pay rent with my credit card.

Problem number three:

Christmas is coming up. I’d like to at least be able to buy a present for this little fella:

That’s my Godson, Aidan William deVilla-Choi. If a kid can’t expect a present from his Godfather, what’s the point of going on?

The solution:

The “Save Joey’s Christmas” Sale.

The former housemate left a lot of stuff at the house, and he has authorized me to sell it in order to raise money and help pay off his debt to me. If you’re looking for inexpensive presents to give to geeky friends this season, or if you’re a geek who wants some nice books or toys, you might want to check out the sale. I’ve priced everything quite comptetitively. The list isn’t complete yet — I’m going to add a few more items later on today.

All proceeds go towards saving my Christmas. You’ll get nice stuff for low prices, and I won’t be reduced to giving out sexual favours in the bus station in exchange for free cheese. And isn’t that what Christmas is all about?

Just heard back from my placement guy: made the short list, but didn’t get picked. The employer chose someone with less technical skill and seniority, but who had more experience with enterprise development. On a brighter note, the employer said “keep an eye on that Joey guy, we might need him later.”

I guess that’s the price you pay for seven years’ worth of very interesting, very offbeat development work: when the only stable employers are mondo enterprise customers (those links are just examples — I haven’t applied to any of them), your experience comes up short. I’ll still take seven years of looking forward to going to work every day, adventure and a little uncertainty over Dilbert-land and slightly increased job security.

I figure it was also my time for a dry spell — up until now, I’ve been extremely fortunate: every job interview I’d ever had resulted in my getting hired.

And so the job search continues.

The Adventures of AccordionGuy in the 21st Century and everything else under the kode-fu.com domain “vanished” off the ‘Net for a short time starting Sunday morning. A file on a Web server in Seattle blew itself to pieces, and a lot of web sites hosted by my Internet service provider were suddenly “turned invisible”. The appropriate people have been yelled at, and the porblem has been fixed. Good thing, too — the resume section of this Web site has been very helpful in my (still unsuccessful, but improving) job search.

The annual Shift magazine “State of the Net” party took place last night at The Guvernment, a large warehouse dance club complex by the lake, just east of Accordion City’s downtown core.

(Yeah, I know, silly name. There’s sillier: the part of the complex where they hold concerts is called Kool Haus.)

Our cab pulled up to the entrance at about 10 o’clock. The word amongst the club kids was that the Guvernment has spent dump trucks of money on renovations, and it was readily apparent from the outside. The facade had a fancy new paint job and they’d installed a large number of spotlights and a some kind of projection lighting system that flashed a kaleidoscope of Shift magazine logos on the club’s east wall. The place looked like a scene from a movie or a beer commercial; they’d certainly put a lot of effort into the part of a club that people ignore before they get in and are to drunk to notice when they leave.

There must be a fashion magazine — or perhaps a cloning facility — for bouncers. They’re starting to look alike. If you’ve been to a club lately, you probably know the look: a barrel-chested build, hair either very close-cropped or cleanly shaven off, goatee or van dyke beard, black boots, black pants, black jacket and either a black or white shirt. If it’s cold out, they throw on either a black baseball cap or black toque. With the advent of cheap two-way radios, many of them sport those earpiece/microphone combos, which makes them look like paramilitary operatives from an action film.

A line about thirty people deep were presenting their paper invitations to one of the bouncers. I’d signed me and my guests onto the guest list online, so I had no such paper. No problem, I thought, they probably have list of signed-up guests printed out.

I walked up to one of the bouncers.

“I’m on the –” I started before the bouncer interrupted.

“I believe you. You and your friends can come on in.”

This was unusual for a Shift party. During the heyday of the dot-com boom, they took great pains to keep the uninvited out and I had to take great pains to secure enough invitations for me and my friends. Even during the recent 10th anniversary party only a couple of months ago, you couldn’t get in without an invitation.

“You’re not going to check the list?” I said. This would’ve been a dumb move had I not been on the list — asking the gatekeeper to double check my bona fides after I’d scammed my way in — but I was a legitimate guest and had nothing to worry about.

“No. If you’re not on the list and you show up with that,” he said, pointing to the accordion, “I figure you’ll be thrown out pretty quick. Get in.”

Very well, then.

Simple directions to Iraq…if you’re flying east from North America, and if you know where Saudi Arabia is.

A common refrain by everyone living outside America is that Americans know very little about the outside world. Even here in neighbouring Accordion Country — often referred to by its nickname, “Canada” — the apocryphal story about American tourists coming in the middle of July with their skis and parkas to Toronto or Montreal still makes the rounds.

Of course we wouldn’t be telling these jokes if our American friends didn’t keep providing us with the material. A recent National Geographic survey found that 6 out 7 Americans in the 18-to-24 age group couldn’t locate Iraq on a world map, and an equal percentage couldn’t locate Iran. Only 17 percent could locate Afghanistan.

Closer to home, 1 in 10 couldn’t locate the US on a world map. Even when asked to locate places within the U.S., the results were pathetic: half of them couldn’t locate the state of New York.

Less flag-waving and more atlas reading, people!

[Thanks to Metafilter for the link.]

I’m quite busy today, but that doesn’t mean I’ve left you with nothing to read.

Phil “Pud” Kaplan, the founder of FuckedCompany.com, the Web site that tracks the downfall of dot coms and their absurdity, has an e-mail newsletter called FC Sporadic in which he rants about whatever he crosses his mind. He’s an interesting guy who writes about a good number of things other than doomed dot-coms, and FC Sporadic often provided me with some of the best reads in my inbox when I was a subscriber. I don’t subscribe to it anymore, but my friend Adam Smith still does, and he forwarded the following story to me.

It’s Pud’s story about a bully who tormented him in junior high and how the tables have turned now that he runs FuckedCompany and the bully was the CEO of a failed dot-com. Enjoy!

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When was the last time you were picked on by a bully? Heckled?

I thought I was done with that shit after that dude Roberto who used to beat me up in sixth grade wound up in jail for dropping a rock onto a moving car from an overpass.

But no, it happened again yesterday. This jock guy was picking on me like I was twelve. Specifically, it was Jason Wolfe, CEO of MyCoupons.com/DirectResponse.com.

What I’m about to tell you is the true, accurate, non-embellished story. In case you don’t believe me, I encourage and implore you to ask Mr. Wolfe yourself for his side of the story. He can be reached at [e-mail deleted — Joey], or more conveniently on his cell phone at [phone number deleted — Joey].

…think he needs some magazine subscriptions? i’ve just finished signing him up for the Marines… Semper Fi, Jason!

Anyway, here’s what happened. I was here in NYC speaking at this online marketing tradeshow called AdTech. Specifically, I was helping out my friends at ClickSquad.com with their presentation.

So Andy from ClickSquad does his shtick, selling his wares in front of the full crowd of about 50 people in the conference section of the tradeshow floor. He then introduces me, as I’m supposed to talk and give examples from my book about companies that squandered money on failed marketing ideas.

As soon as Andy introduces me, this meathead-looking dude standing to the side wearing a green monogrammed polo shirt starts to “boo” me. I notice that he’s standing next to two or three other frat boys, all wearing the same green shirt. The normal people in the room are politely applauding my introduction, and this guy is booing.

So I walk up with a copy of my book in hand. I open with, “hey look, the green shirts are booing me. They must be in my book!”

Everyone laughs. Except this idiot in the green shirt. “It’s all lies!” he shouts. “EVERYTHING YOU WRITE ABOUT, IT’S ALL MADE-UP LIES!” At this point, random people around the tradeshow are wondering what the hell is happening and a large crowd starts to form around the speaking area, around the filled seats.

“LIES!! STORIES!!” he shouts like he has Turrets [sic — I believe Pud meant “Tourette’s”] or something.

“He’s right,” I say to the crowd. “Everything on my website and in my book, I made it all up.”

Figuring that would shut him up, I continued as planned. I’m introducing myself to the audience for a minute or two – he starts back up, heckling. “IT’S BECAUSE OF PEOPLE LIKE YOU THAT ALL THESE COMPANIES WENT OUT OF BUSINESS!!!”

“What?” I asked.

He repeats his claim, yelling even louder. At this point, everyone in the tradeshow has moved over to the speaking area, a few hundred onlookers. The green-shirted asshole moves really close to me, separated only by the velvet ropes around the podium.

“I’d love to take credit for the downfall of all these dot-com companies,” I said. “I really would. But I think it has more to do with superbowl ads, $800 chairs, $1 million launch parties, and more generally, the fact that most of the companies in my book went out of business because they didn’t make enough money.”

I go on to give examples of companies going out of business that were clearly “my fault”. For example, Pets.com and their multi-million-dollar superbowl ads. Furniture.com spending more money to ship items than they were making from them. DigiScents spending $20 million so you could *smell* websites. Hell, I’d like to take personal credit for Enron and Worldcom while we’re at it.

You get the point, and so did the audience. Mister green-shirt’s face is turning purple, clearly realizing that he’s waged a losing battle. Guys like Mr. Wolfe aren’t exactly known for their intellectual prowess or debating expertise, if ya know what I mean…

You have to realize, at this point I had no idea who this freak was or what his problem was. At one point I thought maybe he was mentally handicapped so I felt bad arguing with him in front of all these people. So I continue with the presentation.

Thirty-seconds later, “YOU POSTED COPYWRITED [sic] INFORMATION ABOUT MY COMPANY!!!” he screams loudly.

“You have a company?” I asked, figuring he has an ice cream route or something.

“I’m the founder and CEO of MyCoupons.com!” he exclaimed proudly, like the fat kid who finished all his pie.

Ah ha! This guy is a bitter CEO of a fucked dot-com! An actual dot-com CEO! This weirdo actually runs a business! I dunno, I might be going out on a limb here but I’m gonna have to say that it’s PEOPLE LIKE HIM who drive their companies into the ground — I just stand around and watch like everyone else. I was flabbergasted.

So anyway.

“You posted copywrited [sic] information on your website!” he yelled again, making sure the crowd could hear him. Apparently he didn’t realize that everyone thought he was nuts.

The first thing that popped into my mind – in the microphone for all to hear, “Bet I made more money from your copywrited [sic] information than you did..!”

That was a proud moment in my pathetic little life.

Editors note: Later that day when I got home I checked FC to see what “copywrited [sic] information” I posted. I posted a note that he sent to all MyCoupons users notifying them about impending lawsuits and the company’s financial problems. It wasn’t even an internal memo, it WAS intended for distribution.

Anyway, getting back to the story… I ignored his stare-down and finished my presentation.

Presentation over, audience loudly applauding me, Mr. Wolfe looking like a dumbass.

As soon as I walk off the stage, he gets all huffy in my face. Flashbacks of sixth grade, I’m actually kinda nervous, thinking this nut-job might actually hit me. Then again, my apartment needs new floors and I could use the money so I’m kinda hoping he’s gonna take a swing.

At this point I’m supposed to walk back to the ClickSquad booth and sign books. There’s a huge crowd of people following me and this pinhead — who’s in my face. His face is turning purple and I can’t make out what he’s babbling about but he’s doing that thing where he’s talking and spit is coming out of his mouth. It was kinda gross so I said to him, “Your breath smells. Could you stop talking to me?” in my best I’m-not-twelve-anymore-you-fuckface delivery.

I turn around to sign a book or something. He whips around and gets in my face yelling, “WHAT’D YOU SAY!??! WHAT’D YOU SAY?!?! WHAT’D YOU SAY!?!!”. Serious flashbacks to sixth grade here, remember the guy who used to say “You gotta staring problem??!” It was like that.

“I said your breath stinks. Invest in a fucking toothbrush,” I replied. I had a stern facade but I spot his clenched fist and inside I can feel this dude about to deck me.

Suddenly the other green-shirts appeared out of nowhere and forcefully pulled him away before he could pummel me.

The moral of the story? There is none. I’m just a big pussy.

Zooko points out that the phrase “Atkins diet” is number 9 among the top gaining Google queries (according to Google’s Zeitgeist page, which tracks which search phrases are the most popular).. Could it be all the praise it’s received in Cory’s and Doc Searls’ weblogs, an aftereffect of the New York Times article [free registration required] or has Dr. Atkins made a TV appearance recently?