searching online

Incited by the two ugly boxes sitting near my living room, I go online to look for employment.

A friend of mine sends me a link for a work-at-home job.  It sounds great.  There are pages of information.  The only real criteria are good computer skills and a desire to make money. The testimonials are all by nice-looking-professional people who have made $70-80M a year from home.  I spend an hour reading through everything.  I’m hooked.  I need to sign-up by their deadline of tomorrow.  Wow.  I can just make it.  I click on the link.  There are only two openings left in New York.  Lucky day.  Already I’m envisioning calling the Census Bureau asking what to do with the boxes I no longer need.  I’m glad I didn’t unpack the computer because I hate the idea of following printed instructions to re-pack it.  I read more. I get to the part about what they will give me.  I didn’t think I’d need anything.  Apparently I do — a starter kit, free career counseling, and some other important stuff.  Oh, and now they want $97.  Hmmmm.  I research the company (and I use the word loosely)  and find their rating from the Better Business Bureau.  F.  I want to cry.

I keep looking and find different sites for legitimate stay at home jobs.  One site is looking for bloggers.  Perfect.  Except most are on subjects I know nothing about, nor care to.  For example, I can write a 1500-word article (about 5 pages) on the advantages and disadvantages of double brick vs. timber frame construction.  I look for more, find only one, and apply.

I next spend a couple of hours at eLance, a site for freelancers of all types.  I upload my resume and still have to fill in education, skills, and jobs (and be reminded again of the great jobs I once had).  I find one job I like — it's to write copy for a new product  I apply. 

By now, I am tired of searching and need a break. I can’t believe it’s already two.  I check my emails and see one from Josh, the creator of the new product I applied for a few minutes ago.  We write back and forth a few times.  He sends me his proposed website and logo.  I tell him I don’t think the logo reflects the brand (and explain why).  I sign a Non Disclosure Agreement.  He calls me.  We talk.  I like him.  I suggest a day rate to work on copy and strategy.  He sounds interested and will let me know. 

It is now 3:30; I still haven't eaten; but I feel I've gotten a few things done.