Making a Living

(This was written when I lived in Philadelphia. Now I'm in Los Angeles and have no fun job to write about.)

Can you imagine? Donaco's in the advertising industry. The World Wide Web, to be specific. We're in this great little office called i-site in Center City, Philadelphia. To be even more specific, we're in Olde City, which is deliciously hip nowadays.

But all that really means is that real estate is over priced and there isn't a supermarket to be found.

But anyway... back to more important things.

So Donaco does computers now. He went to one client meeting with his boss, Ray, and got to explain the difference between a browser and a server. Can you imagine a roomful of people listening to Donaco explain something computery? Donaco doesn't know if he's ever even seen a server.

Amazingly, the clients nodded their heads and seemed to understand. Ray and Donaco had a big ol' laugh afterwards reliving all the highlights of the meeting. Like the moment Donaco thought he would try being very informal: He said, "A browser is the software my mother would use to view websites on the Internet."

He got blank looks from everyone in the room. What he meant was it was the software people use to view websites on the Internet. He thought it would bring the conversation to an informal, friendly level. But, instead, he got a room full of people gazing at him uncomprehendingly. Everyone probably thought "OK.... That's what your mother uses,... but what does everyone else use? And why are you here?"

So that's one thing Donaco has learned since coming to Philly; leave your mother out of the client meetings.

Also at i-site is Ian who is Ray's biz partner. We like Ian because he's introduced us to music from the 70s and 80s that nobody listens to. Like Sparks. Remember them? Two guys; one "cool" looking with thick, curly hair and the other guy who plays keyboards and wore a thin mustache and retro, greased hair. Looked kinda like Hitler. And didn't move much. Or speak. Well, who would have known that their music is so great? Nobody paid them any attention because the Hitler-looking guy was so odd. But this two CD set of their best songs is just fantastic. I play them over and over and over again (if you can imagine) until Ian and Ray remind me that I haven't yet got health benefits.

But life at i-site web design isn't all about singing pop songs into the stapler. No. We also juggle. And read the "trades". And we tend to throw paper airplanes at our intern, Brian. Well, some of us do. OK, one person does. But Brian is capable of defending himself and doesn't need your pity.

The Benjamin Franklin Post Office

I give the package to the woman behind the counter and she takes it in her hand and sighs. "This probably weighs more than a pound." she says. That doesn't scare me off. I have money. As you well know, I work in the glamorous, new field of Web Design and that pays big bucks. So I tell her, "OK", not really sure why she bothered to mention it in the first place.

But then she goes, "We can't take this package at this Post Office. We can only handle things less than a pound." JoAnn says, "Oh, I didn't know you had a package. I thought you were sending a letter." I'm a little confused so I say to both of them, "So?"

And the Postal Woman says, "This Post Office was founded by Ben Franklin. We can't handle any transactions that weren't in existence when the Post Office was founded." Then she points to a big red sign behind the counter that explains all the services not available at this post office because they weren't around two hundred and twenty years ago.

No packages that weigh more than a pound, no certified mail, no more than 50 pieces of mail at a time, no this, no that. Just buy a couple stamps and get out. So we left and went to a real post office. But I couldn't stop bitching about it for three days. 'Cause that's the kind of whiney guy I am. I got it in my head that I'd write the Postmaster and shame him into joining the 20th Century. Tell him how impractical the rules are and how ol' Ben Franklin wouldn't approve of such impracticality and how the whole neighborhood is inconvenienced by this silly policy and I'll bet they use modern trucks to move the mail out from their post office and Ben Franklin didn't have those so they better knock that off right now and get themselves some donkey carts if they want to be consistant. And stamps didn't cost no 32 cents in Ben's day either so they best cut that out, too.

But who has time for all that civic action when there are "trades" to read?