It's the Internet, stupid

fifth in a series of major life event/direction choices...

The point of this series is to talk about choices. I don't know that there is a single choice I can identify that mattered as much as the choice to go to California. But my career, if it existed as such, radically changed.

I had a sweet deal when I left the Senate. 2 months of severance--they continued to pay me for each pay period as long as I did not have a job. And when that was over...I collected unemployment compensation from Washington, D.C., which has the most generous terms of anywhere. I think I was getting over $300/week.

That was helpful as we started with nothing in San Francisco. I remained unemployed for 6 months. It was a long difficult time I have no desire to repeat--not just because of the lack of money, but because during this time, I was not even sure what I should be doing. When I read my old resumes from this time and recall some of the interviews, cover letters, "informational interviews," and whatnot, it was not a pleasant time. I hate the feeling of limbo. I hate feeling like people are wondering what I am doing and why I don't seem to know what I want.

At first, I was focused on trying to find "policy" positions or positions that utilized my law degree. But I did not take the bar exam because I reasoned 1) I did not want to practice law as an attorney directly--I wanted to work in public policy and 2) it was expensive and I would not have had the results until the Fall--over six months away. I interviewed with CCH, the legal publishing company, to be an editor writing summaries of law--that did not go anywhere. I even interviewed with another legal publisher in South San Francisco that would have been a night shift job. The interview went well, but I decided not to pursue it because I did not want to be working the night shift.

I found an career support organization in San Francisco called Alumnae Resources, and another in Palo Alto called the Career Action Center. I started making lists of goals and contacts and doing all sorts of stuff, not unlike this blog, to identify major decision points in my life, determine my transferable skills, etc. And I went out on informational interviews.

One memorable informational interview that perhaps crystallized my realization that "policy" was not going to be a viable option for me occurred when I met with another guy about my age who was the policy/legislative person for one of the members of the Board of Supervisors/City Council. I showed up at City Hall where we were supposed to meet, but City Hall was a mess in those days as they were still rebuilding it from the Loma Prieta quake and it was not clear where to go. I ended up on the floor where I thought his office was and asked a woman there if she knew where to find him.

She EXPLODED on me. "What do you think I am, some secretary or something?" She was furious that I had asked her where the guy's office was. After she stormed off, I was stuck there with no idea where this guy was going to meet me, so I look around some more and eventually stumbled upon her office. Great. "Do you know who I am? I'm the legislative director for X"--some city council person I had never heard of." She just got more angry. "Who ARE you, anyway?" Of course, I had had enough of this crap and so I said, "I don't know who you are, but you're a public servant here at City Hall. I'm a citizen of this city and you work for me." About that time, the guy I was supposed to meet appeared and we were leaving, but she just would not let it go. "Look at him," she said, "white, heterosexual male!"

Over lunch, he talked about his own difficulties as a white male trying to work in San Francisco politics and said, basically, we had 3 strikes against us already, they barely tolerated him, and so, it was very unlikely another one like us would be able to get any policy job there.

The irony was that at the time, I was also volunteering for Roberta Achtenburg's mayoral campaign--the first openly lesbian woman to run for mayor of a major city. But, in case you did not know, San Francisco is about the most "politically correct" place on Earth, except perhaps for Berkeley. But in San Francisco, it's all about your sexual identity. There are a lot of people with huge chips on their shoulders looking for an opportunity to safely lash out at any perceived homophobia. San Francisco, politically, is complex--even with the ultra-liberal bias of people, there is a sizeable conservative group of older people who were there first...and the politics of the city are an amazing mess of factions and perceived injustices. It's insane.

After a few of these kinds of experiences (well, not quite like that experience, but I was getting to know the "lay of the land"), I realized I had a very difficult road ahead to try and break into any kind of policy work in San Francisco. In retrospect, I probably should have expanded my search to the South Bay, but a new interest was starting to take hold.

As part of my effort to job search, I borrowed a friend's computer and then got a dial-up account with slip.net, one of the first local ISPs in San Francisco. In addition to basic web access and email, they gave you a "shell account" which meant I could log in to their computer and write little perl script programs and create my own dynamic web page. I bought a book to "Teach yourself CGI programming in 14 days" and started working on my own web page, much as I am currently working on this blog.

For a long time, I had continued to perceive my purpose in life based on believing that I had certain native talents and abilities and a destiny to change the world. I just had to find an organization, company, etc. that would realize that and give me a chance. I recently reviewed an old resume with an objective of "Management position utilizing my..." Yeah. Yuck. It reads as though it were written by someone with no real idea of what working in a job was really like. It was too abstract. Although I had a decent amount of experience in volunteer efforts at creating change, I did not really understand how to be my own "change agent."

As I worked on my web page and started to research technology companies, I began to develop a new view of the world that goes something like this:

With Bill Clinton as President and California solidly Democratic, the environment was already about as progressive as possible, at least locally. I wanted to make a local difference. Solutions to social problems were not met by reactionary conservative forces--it was assumed that progressives would work to do all kinds of "good." They didn't really need my help. On the other hand, what really mattered to most people was the economy--remember, "It's the economy, stupid"? While politics was mired in the same old stuff, and law practice seemed a boring option, it was clear in 1995 that something big was in the process of happening with the Internet. I could sense it was going to be huge and I wanted to be a part of it.

My cover letters to companies like Netscape (or attempts to get Marc Andreeson on the phone!) didn't go anywhere because I did not have any relevant skills. Yes, I had these "transferable skills" like "problem solving" but the fact of the matter is, those skills on a resume are bullshit. Everyone has those skills or can say they do. What always matters, to get a job, is whether you have a unique skill they need. As a manager myself, I know my job is not to provide employment for people, it is to solve problems. I want a person who can troubleshoot a Cisco router and has done it before, not somebody who says they have great problem-solving skills.

Then, one day, I saw a job posted on USENET, for an entry-level webmaster at a small non-profit called Smart Valley, Inc. It was mostly editing content, but they needed a person who could set up a website. I had the basic entry level skills and experience as an editor in many prior roles. So, finally, I ended my 6-month period of unemployment and began my career as an Internet webmaster, at $33K/year as my wife began her first year of law school.

Smart Valley was really ideal as a transition for me. The projects I worked on included many things that benefited the community: NetDay--wiring schools to the Internet, and, in 1996, SmartVoter, a website that allowed users to enter a zip code and view their sample ballot--complete with information provided by the candidates. When I recall those early days, it is not unlike the feeling I had on the floor of the Senate--it was important. All around me were the people who started it all, although I did not really take advantage of the networking opportunities. Smart Valley was kind of a trade association that all the "big shots" belonged to. I would sit in a meeting and now, instead of looking around the room and seeing John Rockefeller, Arlen Spector, Tom Daschle, etc., I would see John Young (former CEO of HP), Les Vadez (Intel), and Regis McKenna.

The key change in this period is how I adapted to the reality of the job market and what was "hot." I remember feeling that in 1994, I had been at an important place, and that in 1995, not just for me, but for the society and nation as a whole, the locus of importance had moved west, to Silicon Valley. I was where I was supposed to be, at least, regardless of what opportunities I created, took advantage of or missed.

How that changed is the subject of the sixth and final of these career introspection essays...