Miscellaneous

I was recruited by an SAT preparation service a few months ago. He found my resume on NYTimes.com; I think that's where he said he had found it. The recruiter - let's call him Edgar - I guess this mental tarball is all about Edgar.

The way they set it up, there is what they call an audition first, and then 48 hours of training before they certify you. The first time around, when the audition came up, I was in the middle of a project and I just did not feel up to it; I blew it off. A few weeks later, Edgar sent a message again. This time I went. I did terribly at the audition; I was nervous, nearly incoherent. To my surprise, they told me to come to training the following weekend; all but one of the people from the audition were at training too.

Today was day four of the training. A little before noon a different trainer told me I was being cut. Not a total surprise; the second day of training we had to get up in front of the class and "teach" a problem and Edgar reviewed my performance. The criticism from that point was uniform and followed Edgar's lead.

I guess this journal entry is pointless; I feel a tinge of bitterness, but mostly I feel that icky high school feeling. The revenge of the average. Be louder and more energetic. I think what the trainer said was that they didn't think they were things I can change. She's probably right. Eh, whatever - the money they pay the instructors isn't great and the way the course sections are scheduled would have put a serious damper on my ability to leave town. I would have liked to put this on my resume; I'm not sure I really want to actually train hundreds of high school juniors, though I think that might have been fun at times.

But I said this entry was about Edgar, and I've been dwelling on my bruised feelings and rationalizations. Edgar -- where do I start? When I spoke with him on the phone (at length, repeatedly), it was just before Christmas and I was expressing my trepidation about the holiday, memories of last year fresh in my mind. Edgar, emphatic, empathetic, assertive that he would like to help in any way. He stressed that - in any way. The way he said it bridged the gap, and I felt like maybe he's not just a huckster, maybe he is genuinely genuine. Or maybe it was something else. It's so rare that I encounter someone who actually listens that I find it disarming when I do. He referenced his partner at some point - which I at first thought was some sort of romantic force field then was confused as to what exactly the role the partner played or as to their gender. But something in his manner said hyper-professional thirty five year old married with no children.

When I first met Edgar in person, I didn't know it was him. What I realized pretty quickly was that I wasn't the only one with a crush on Edgar; everyone felt the same way. Edgar's handsome and gay. It's also clear that he runs the place. I don't know where he sits with whatever corporation, but the trainers, the trainees, the office staff - everyone's allegiance is to Edgar. So having blown off my first meeting and having been so candid about family holiday events was probably not good - two marks against me and I haven't even been to the office yet. What was weird about what followed after that first session and Edgar's feedback is that Edgar's observations became everyone else's observations; what I did in front of the group seemed irrelevant. They would instead echo Edgar's comments, and maybe augment them with some specifics from whatever came of the current performance. The social dynamics of small groups of average people. High school.

It's not a total loss; I got paid to take 28 hours of training and got to see the inside of a training organization; they got me to sign a non-disclosure non-compete agreement taking me off the market for 12 months. And, again, under the sting of rejection, the rationalizations, and that feeling of losing, there's that weird feeling -- that strange sort of motivation that comes from failure.

Thank you Edgar. You rock. ;-)

It's funny hearing people up in arms over the President's indiscriminate abuse of wiretaps - to hear the people talk about violation of the trust. Was it Scott McNealy who said "you have no privacy - get over it." Indeed.

I got more spam from Monster.com this morning. They send me a lot of junk - usually I just ignore it; this morning I thought I'd go and turn off the source. I registered at Monster.com several YEARS ago -- I have not got any legitimate employment inquires through there website (though I have got a lot of junk mail and offers to assist me by writing my resume or paying people to find me a job). Like many online services founded before Google published their mission statement including the words "don't be evil," Monster's customer account section shows masterful obfuscation. You can't just tell them to stop sending you spam - you need to log on, verify your address, phone number and e-mail (the very tools they are using to annoy you), then access their copious lists of "FREE" services and disable them one by one.

Admitted, I'm bit ashamed of myself that I entrusted my personal information to an organization that displays such thin ethics. My instinct tells me get out - delete everything. Posting here is only bringing me wasted bandwidth and wasted time. Hmmm. There is no way to cancel your account from the account management section of their website. You need to dig through a few FAQs and help screens to find out that -- indeed -- you can't delete your account online, you must instead call them.

Monster plays off of your ego - you post on them because you dream about some company calling you and asking, no, begging you to join their team where you can use your web surfing and video gaming skills to earn $120 an hour. But look at what you are giving them: your education, your confirmed address, your income level -- you're pretty much giving them your identity. When I signed on, I never thought to even ask "do I trust these people?"

So, yes, I called. And I listened to their robot, and I spoke when prompted and I pressed the proper buttons and I waited for 10 minutes and I confirmed my mailing address, phone number and e-mail address, and she cheerfully said that she's cancelled my account and I am quite sure she was lying. All I had accomplished was to verify my personal contact information. Sure, they'll probably take my resume off line. Delete your record. No. No one does that any more.

25 years ago, computer technology was frightfully expensive, which made it scarce and cool. Today it is unbelievably cheep, which makes it pervasive. 25 years ago, no one would ever think to keep the records of anything anyone ever did forever - I mean, we were all just struggling to make sure payroll worked ok. Things are different now. There's value in knowing everyone else's business - companies are willing to pay for it to improve the marketing, and the only forces that could outlaw it have chosen not to.

I guess a big part of it is that people don't understand what's been lost. "1984" featured a two way television, corrupted language, an endless war of dubious purpose, -- jeez, I never really stopped to think about right now in that context. Anyway - what's been lost. You forget. You're human. Forgetting is a beautiful thing; imagine a world where you remembered everything always. There would no longer be the now, just the infinite sting of regret blaring against the trumpets of pride. Forgetting is peace and forgiveness and now. But computers don't forget unless their operators tell them to.

When my dad was dying, when I raced behind the ambulance to the hospital, when they were admitting him epileptic, babbling -- the administrator accessing his records, referring to events years ago. The medical industries computers never forget. The administrator kept asking me for proof of insurance. She was upset, indicating that he might not be able to stay. A babbling incoherent 80 year old World War 2 combat veteran. And pokey 27 year old community college nurse wannabe is coping an attitude. It took a while to straighten out - the name everyone called dad was not his legal name, and there was someone of similar age who did have that as his legal name, and she did apologize later on, but that was after pulling up completely unrelated medical history and giving it to the attending physician. Off on a tangent again. Monster. Privacy.

A recent item in the news described how the NSA was taping into the trunk lines of the phone system. The article's writer didn't use technical jargon, but what I think he was trying to say is that the NSA is capturing all the switching information and doing data mining. The backbone of the phone system is this technology called SS7 - it's like a very specialized internet that is used to set up and take down connections between phones. When you dial a conventional call, the switch converts it to a data packet that goes through the system, the call is set up and the phone on the other end rings. The whole thing takes less than a second. When they wrote the wiretap laws, this technology didn't exist. From what I read, I get the impression the NSA is trapping all the SS7 information and storing it in a database, then going back and analyzing it to see if it yields anything. Smart and clever - I actually don't have any problem with them doing that. But people should understand that the government knows the number of every phone that communicated with every other phone and at what time and for how long. You could figure out a lot just from that - the actual content of the conversation isn't all that important.

There's also a lot of talk of the anonomy of the Internet. Perhaps in an interpersonal way, yes -- spending large amounts of time typing and looking at a fluorescent screen is not the same as talking and looking at one another's faces. But in terms of privacy, there is none. Every web page you ever visit leaves a trail. Every message you have ever sent may be recorded forever. Every day, people give away all sorts of information with the expectation that it will be forgotten.

In Washington, Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice called the bombings "a great tragedy. It again shows that people will take innocent life without any remorse."

The hardest part is knowing where to start. Dear reader, I am flattered by your interest. It is so funny that you say nothing.

I have been writing stuff for years but I have never put anything online before. It is hard to find the right tone to strike. It is tempting to just write anonymously - freeing you to just blather on without any brakes.

Maybe I should do that instead.

This page serves some other purpose, though; it is more than a location to express my existential frustration. The primary purpose is for business. That sounds like a rationalisation, but also seems somewhat logical, so I will go with that. Which is why I have my name up there, for y'all to read. Scott Higgins.

I design websites. This is one of them.