Hello. My name is Jared. I work on the second floor. And I just tore a hole in the crotch of my pants. I know that's a lot of details for an introduction, but I think it's important to relate. That's what I'll be doing as the new Community Evangelist for Name.com: Relating. You know how it is the first day on the job. It's never easy. It's nervousness and awkwardness frosted with doubt and self awareness. You feel small in stature but large in disaster.
I'm also one to make it worse with errant attempts at humor. I mean, just after you meet someone it's best to fly low and keep it simple. I try. However, out of my need to fit in, I shared with a new co-worker that I just tore a hole in my pants. That was on the initial handshake, and I'm sure there's something wrong about touching someone you've never met and telling them about your crotch. Now, I sit here behind this Mac computer the size of a car door and quietly admonish myself.
How did I end up here? I'm a radio guy who got out of the industry to care for my mom. If there's anything you should do it's take care of your mother. One unintended side effect is that after doing what could be the best thing you can ever do, you have no idea what to do next. You find yourself sitting on the edge of her daybed with fifty-some years of sewing patterns and boxes of pictures of distant relatives. I don't write this to be melodramatic, only to illustrate the process. You have to find something really darn good. It can't be just any old gig because suddenly your soul satisfaction has gone all high maintenance.
And then your wife reminds you that the kid we just had needs pants. Oh, that.
So I scurried to the government sector where I discovered all my old radio tricks would help the government save some taxpayer dollars. And then those same taxpayers went crazy for a smaller government and my hopes for a permanent position wafted away with the winds of change.
There I was again, but now with two kids who needed pants. Inspired in kind of a Jack Nicholson Shining sort of way, I spent day and night sending out cover letters and resumes. I didn't hear a thing back, but at least my friends were supportive and would say things like, "You'll never hear a thing back." That drew cause for contemplation. I had been hammering out run-of-the-mill application material, but I'd never been hired for anything run of the mill. I've never even used that phrase "run of the mill."
Newly epiphanized, I went to the DOCC, or Denver Open Coffee Club, a biweekly gathering of tech and media geeks, and asked about a good, local company. A hip-looking dude glanced up from his bathtub of coffee and said, "Name."
"I have a friend who works at Name," he said between sips. "And she really likes it."
I went home and took a gander at the site. Looked cool--a company doing great things with a product of infinite possibilities. I started a cover letter even though I loathe cover letters because you go on and on touting all your greatness and end up feeling like a bad guy in an 80s movie.
So instead I sent them a limerick:
There once was no place for a name
That wasn't at all a bit lame,
And then from the throng
Came a company strong
A Denver-based master of Domains.
And then, with the same compulsion that has me telling someone I've just met that I've torn a hole in my pants, I continued with a Haiku.
Boom goes the Daddy
Shooting an elephant at night
and himself in the foot.
You might recognize that reference. If not, then shoot me an email and I'll tell you about it.
Within a few hours, Paul Carter, Name's Veep of Operations, sent me this:
"You have my attention What does your schedule look like next week to speak?"
We spoke. And now here I am.
Right now I'm feeling a bit small, you know, with the breach and all. But I look forward to big things. Probably even a new pair of pants.