Eureka, Sort Of
Today I will meander through a couple of little stories, but eventually I will stroll on over to the point.
When I was young I had a secret ambition (which I still have but I’m not young and it’s not a secret) to solve some great mystery. This desire started of course with Nancy Drew books. My name was Nancy. I could eventually drive a roadster. I could solve crime.
But then it got much more serious. Dianna (over at These Days of Mine) reminded me this week. I was twelve when President Kennedy was assassinated. Twelve is the age when your critical hormone develops. I don’t mean ‘critical’ like ‘vital.’ I mean ‘critical’ like ‘criticism.’ Like Cynicism.
And although I may have been a pre-teen who still played with dolls, I also knew that something was very stinky in Dallas.
And I read and read. Over the years, I read every assassination book I could get my hands on. I was determined to solve this thing.
I read conspiracy theories until I dreamt that Lee Harvey Oswald was standing at the foot of my bed. Then I gave it a rest. I switched over to Lizzie Borden. And Sam Sheppard. And then I moved over to Jack The Ripper. Surprisingly, Jack was less nightmare-inducing than Oswald.
Since I got nowhere on any of these unsolved mysteries, I decided to try my hand at some lesser-known cases. When I first got married, my husband told me about his father’s cousin once removed who disappeared. I gave that a few weeks, but there was every indication that the incident was mob-connected, and I figured that I would be better off laying low.
And then I heard about an old prostitute who had been murdered in Connecticut in the 60’s. Her ‘professional’ name was Princess Sahara or Zahara and she was a friend (of sorts) of my husband’s uncle (different from the missing cousin). From what I understand, her murder was never solved, and nobody much even tried to solve it. But since that was about 50 years ago, and I don’t even know what her real name was, I think that particular mystery will have to wait until I retire. It will be an interesting hobby.
Meandering twenty-five years in both directions – 25 years after Kennedy died and 25 years before my present day minor interest in Princess S(Z)ahara – I had accepted a job promotion that I did not particularly want. But hey, you’re supposed to want a promotion, right?
I became the general manager of a small cable TV system. My predecessor, who as far as I know disappeared with my husband’s father’s cousin, had won a corporate contest just before he vanished. He recorded the highest 3-month subscriber gain in his region. and he had won a four-day all-expense paid trip to Bermuda. Only he was no longer the GM. I was. And they gave me his prize. Bermuda in May – for free. I felt guilty as hell – but then again, I had a wonderful time.
And when I got back to Connecticut, I found out that my predecessor had won this prize the old-fashioned way: He cheated.
He had lots and lots of cable subscribers because he hadn’t disconnected anyone. I was stuck with a gazillion backed-up delinquent accounts. Which should have made me feel even guiltier, but it actually alleviated my guilt. Since I paid after all.
Now back to the present.
As an accountant, I should feel that numbers are pure. But given my experience of 25 years ago, I know that numbers can be downright depraved.
As Mark Twain said (or perhaps stole): “There are three kinds of lies: lies, damn lies, and statistics.”
And with the help of my cable TV experience, I got my childhood wish.
I have solved a mystery.
In the last two months, I have seen a 50% increase in subscribers to my blog.
Wow, I’m popular.
But as I mentioned last week, many of these subscribers do not seem to understand English. Even more curious, they don’t even seem to exist.
And BINGO! I’m back at my my unwanted promotion and undeserved vacation.
Because I have also recently discovered that there are now ADVERTISEMENTS on my blog.
No advertiser pays for an ad that no one sees.
Ads need viewers.
And now I have viewers.
Like fftqizb123 – who just subscribed!