There are people out there who dream of nothing grander in life than finding a craigslist Missed Connection about themselves. They check the damn things fanatically, hitting the refresh button every 12 seconds, reading each cryptically vague ad with wonderment ("Wow, I was wearing a black winter coat yesterday on the subway…Could this ad be about…me??").
I, by virtue of writing this little column, have gotten to know the unrivalled joy that is finding a Missed Connection about yourself. Usually one of my friends will find it and forward the link to me, often accompanied by one of those crazy little winking smiley face emoticons. Usually I read them, enjoy a hearty little chuckle, respond to my friend with a "wow, that's creepy" email and move on.
However, this week, for the first time, something a little bit different happened.
You see, contrary to popular belief, I am neither trust-funded, nor am I employed by Craig to create hype about his site. Nor, as some testy Dave Matthews fans have implied, am I paid millions of dollars every year by The Black Table to spew my bullshit on the internet each week.
Instead, I go to work in an office everyday, where my co-workers affectionately call me "Saddam," and I receive a paycheck every week to push papers and drink coffee and generally try not to get myself fired.
So, when I received an email from one of my co-workers the other day with the subject line "I know where you work…" with a link to this post included, I had to pause a second and deeply reflect upon the ramifications of, well, spewing my bullshit on the Internet every week.
And then I resumed my game of Solitaire, as this post quickly was forwarded to everyone in my office. So, congratulations to the creeper who wrote this one. You've earned the distinct honor of being the only person to write a craigslist ad that is now proudly displayed on the bulletin board in my office. And if that's not enough for you, my co-workers, like, totally love you.
We all know who she is. We all can't wait til it's friday again, just
to delight in seeing her make fun of our pathetic little posts (lives).
And she does it. Every friday she does. Every single one. "Hey how
are you? I'm fine and you? Me too. It's a lovely friday isn't it? Oh is
it friday already? Yeah, Blair's column must be up..." Some units
in the army now measure the time like "6 hours after Blair"
or "two days until Blair". Or so I heard. Anyway, you get it.
What you probably don't: how does she do it? How for fuck's sake does
she manage to get it done every single friday!?
Now, I've done my homework. First I thought: the reasons are probably
not very exciting for this one. She gets an update done every friday.
Doesn't she ever go out? She has to be ugly. Fat, even. You know, the
type that listens to Elvis's Greatest Love Songs and sobs about it all
night. Let's see if there's a picture of her. I google her name... Wow!
Okay, she's not ugly. Well, maybe she's got a terminal illness then. You
know, cancer or something. Let's check the archives. She's doing the column
for like a good one and a half years now. No cancer either.
How long can it possibly take to write the column? Mostly she picks New
York posts and there seem to be ones from as early as saturday till as
late as thursday. Assumed she more or less goes through all of them...
that's a LOT. Like, we're talking about posts in the magnitude of 2000
here. Sometimes she throws in little gems from places like Boston or Spokane...
Let's say 2500 per week. Now, in average, she probably spends about 20
seconds on a post. Some furious typing on the calculator... That's 50000
seconds. Or about 14 hours a week.
And then I realized. She's doing it while she's at work! There's no other
way you're spending 14 hours shifting through pathetic sex ads and racist
rants BUT if you're ugly as hell, are expecting to die in three weeks
flat OR you are at work!
This is where I come in. I'm working for 8-10 hours a day and when I get
home I'm done... I need a job like yours Amy Blair. Please, please, tell
me what kind of job you do and where to get it... You owe us this much
for the rabbit freak from Spokane.
Yours sincerely:
a reader
All right, buddy, against better judgment, I'm going to respond to your post. The fact that you've given this enough thought to actually have written this pretty much totally creeps me out … however, since you did it, I guess I'll (reluctantly) answer your questions.
What do I do for a living that allows me the freedom to spend 14 hours per week (which is a mighty generous estimate, I might add) to read sex ads and racist rants on the job? Simple: I'm a high-class French call girl. My clients pay me a lot of money to work on my computer and ignore them while I listen to my "Elvis' Greatest Love Songs" CD as they beg for my attention. I never give them any attention, and at the end of their session they go home defeated, emotionally spent, but highly aroused. You would be surprised, gentle reader, how many men are willing to pay for this kind of service. It's a strange line of work, no doubt, but it pays the bills and gives me the unbridled freedom to spend as many hours per week as I crave reading your pathetic little posts about your pathetic little lives.
In my free time, I play Solitaire on my computer and stuff my sobbing face with Twinkies. It's a tough life, but somebody's got to do it.
You know she loves a good mention. Does this mean you're trying to get her to mention you? Very transparent...
Whoa, this person, like, totally read my mind, man. However did he know that I love a "good mention?" People with, like, psychic abilities are, like, so super duper scary. It's devil-work, I tell you. Doesn't it frighten you to mess with the, like, powers of darkness like that?
No, actually this is my first step towards world domination. Muhahahahaaa!
I honestly don't know what you people are thinking sometimes…
Oops, my boss needs me to change the toner now! Gotta go! Ciao!
Want More?
Hit up The Week in Craig Archive.
Amy Blair, winner of The Village Voice's "best website's summary of another website" award, is eager to be called horrible names on Craig's List. Bring it.
