Moral of the Story: Problogger Edition

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(Note: The picture that you see on your right is of Darren’s baby, Xavier, which I got off Problogger. As far as a photo credit goes, I assume Darren took it. This photo has nothing whatsoever to do with the topic of this post. I just really like pictures of babies.)

When I first decided to start this blog, being the marketing superstar that I am, I decided that I should launch with a contest. About halfway through the planning phases, my trusty Bloglines reader showed me that Darren at Problogger was launching his own birthday giveaway and was looking for sponsors. Well, color me stoked, I’m in. I lovingly crafted my Suck Up To Darren email and fired it off. I knew he was going to be swamped and he said it would take a while to get back to people, so I didn’t hold my breath for a quick response.

I’ll spare you the boring details of what followed, which was basically a whole bunch of nothing, with me hyperventilating about Darren’s lack of response for several days. It was ugly and unflattering and you should probably feel sorry for my husband.

Eventually, Darren published a post saying that the sponsors had been chosen and that the whole shebang was being handled by Lara at Anubis Marketing. I wasn’t on the list.

For those of you who haven’t been paying attention, I run a marketing company. Apparently, so does Lara. Take a moment and imagine how quickly my general hysteria turned into the formation of conspiracy theories. She’s out to get me. The e-mails were directly routed to her and she didn’t even pass them along to Darren. I’m getting totally screwed over. Nobody wants to help the little guy. Everybody hates the home business. There was weeping. There were proclamations. I’m blushing right now, as I type.

Flash forward several hours. I am trying to write an e-mail to Darren that won’t make me come off as a total spaz. It’s not going well. Jamie comes up behind me and looks at my monitor. “More spam?”

“Huh?”

“Spam. You know, $2000 blah, blah, blah.”

For the record, no, I don’t know. “This is the e-mail I sent to Darren,” I said.

“Then why the hell did you put a dollar sign in the subject line? That’s the first thing spammers do.”

First, I said a very bad word. Second, I took a deep breath. Third, I picked up the phone and introduced myself to Lara. She was a hundred and fifty levels of awesome. She told me she hadn’t gotten my original e-mails. (Gee, I wonder why.) We hooked something up. It all worked out in the end.

The Moral of the Story? Think before you click.

Oh, how badly this could have gone. Words cannot express the embarrassment I could be feeling right now. I could have gone off on a tangent and freaked out in an e-mail. Worse, I could have done the same thing in comments and made myself look like a moron. I could have done nothing and seethed for seven years.

Think before you type, people. Go for a jog. Go for a nap. Go for a drink. Whatever. Just never, ever, ever click send when you’re angry.

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By Naomi Dunford