Not Anybody’s Gravy Train

We are REALLY having fun now, Gentle Reader.  I had sort of, I suppose, let sleeping dogs lie over the summer which is to say I didn’t extend my torment of the season by including “marketing” expansion for my business in my to do list.  Things were working fine anyway, and with my luck I like to adhere to the If It Ain’t Broke Don’t Fix It  School of Management.

So, we found ourselves on the receiving end of a, yes, marketing call from my webhost (with whom I am, usually, satisfied), proposing an upgrade in my current SEO package.  Including a facebook page.  Well, I thought.  I can do this for a quarter, see what happens, and……OH SILLY, SILLY BEAR.  It’s amazing how quickly we forget the absolute hell we descend to when first we start to muck with our website.

Granted, our internet connection here is barely rudimentary.  For example, for this blog?  The satellite dropped a keystroke in my password entry twice which meant I got shut out and had to reset the password.  So, fine.  Reset the effing password and proceed.  EXCEPT that now, every time I log on, the password section of the opening screen buzzes back and forth in a nauseating fashion and I get to re-enter the new password at least twice.    Meanwhile, today, a customer contacted me saying she’d placed an order on the website.  So I checked and there was no order.  I spent another 45 minutes on the phone with the webhost attempting to ascertain whether there was (yet another) problem with the shopping cart.  Seemingly there wasn’t, and I had to do what everyone who sells things just loves to do, ask the customer to resubmit the order.  ALWAYS A WINNER.

You’ll notice I said “another” 45 minutes on the phone.  Because I’d already spent an hour on the phone with the new SEO people because they’d sent me the Facebook page connect, but with no password.   Also, for the Google portion of the thing, apparently there’s yet another number you have to have to use it.  Fine.  And that, they mail to you.  Except Google in its’ omniscience feels that a P.O. Box isn’t a proper address and probably means you’re some sort of Ukrainian/Nigerian/Other terrorist spam meister.  I, naturally, can only get mail at my P.O. box.  So what happened was? They combined the street address at which I physically…exist…and tacked my P.O. box number onto THAT.  Assuming that the Post Office would just figure that out and…uh….well, do something.  You would have thought I was asking them to have the earth rotate counterclockwise by indicating to them that this was never, never, ever never going to work.  Anyway, no number, no service and of course I’m paying for this delightful experience, right? So I said, well, ahem, how about extending the billing date since I’m not getting any service.  NEVER MIND.

Meanwhile, I was additionally informed that my welcome email as they call it had been sent to me.  Funny, since I didn’t get it.  I DID get several offers to enlarge my (non-existent) penis and claim my sweepstakes/inheritance/UPS tag, as well as many heartening offers to expand my financial well being by various byzantine mechanisms.   So, there was that.  There was also the fact that when I finally logged into the Exciting New Facebook Page for which I had submitted photographs and had been assured that “they” would put together (“oh, don’t worry we do all the work..”) I saw…..nothing.  So net net what this means is more phone time tomorrow which of course one looks forward to, avidly.  Also, do I need to pay someone to do nothing?  So, so confusing.

I like to think it is a positive sign that I haven’t snapped yet.  Because really.  I MEAN REALLY.  The computer world and the banking world and all the rest of it are so totally screwed up, FUBAR as they used to say when dinosaurs roamed the earth, and apparently run by people who operate on fumes instead of brain power, that every effort one makes to navigate and perhaps make money feels like a round with a heavyweight champion, with you being hogtied and gagged.  Or something like that.  How does anything get done? or does it?  I’m not paranoid enough (yet) to think this stuff only happens to me.  But I’m starting to retain the impression that I really don’t give a flying F^@! about Google placement.  I have the growing sensation that, no matter what they say about how everybody and his dog does x,y and z and has stellar results and blahblahblah, this may be where the actual “job creation” has been.  This phone roundelay we’re all on, where people have jobs selling things to other people that aren’t really any good or ever going to be, or maybe just be, period, either.   But by cracky you gotta be on Facebook and those Google Ratings! TO DIE FOR.  Perhaps I just had a bad day.  I haven’t even told you about the spam loop I’m on with a Turkish Google Ad Word site, either.

Oh well. Next time, Nature.  But, right now? I’m sorry, I have to go scream.

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