“You don’t have a blog?” he queried as if I was some strange petrified ‘thing’ in the past.
“No. Should I?”
“Everyone does,” he continued. Albeit his mistress does. He fidgeted in his seat, almost uncomfortable, his eyes zoning onto the part of the table which was my curriculum vitæ, dotmatrixed on a cheap A4 paper — not even recycled.
“I’d like to say that I’m not everyone, but that would be narcissistic on my part” I added. Had I a blog, would I tell a potential employer, or a client? Blogging is great, don’t get me wrong — I find it very accommodating especially when you have no choice but to bitch about the ones who never keep to their words, but really?
What is the point?
“I find that strange for someone with your expertise to not have a blog” he said casually. Sure, Guy Kawasaki blogs but he’s his own boss. Here I am at an interview for a job, that should pay some paper currency instead of promises, and I should tell him ‘everything’ … ?
Should bloggers tell their bosses they have blogs and get the risk of being fired the day after having been hired? Or should they tell a ‘white’ lie? That should be a colour synonymous for deception.
“Would you prefer that I did have something funny to read on the ‘net?” I asked, not that I really cared about what he thought at that juncture. “It’s not like you would have any time left to analyse me at the end of a work week,” I added.
My ‘private’ life is just that. Private.
I could like Bridget Jones, have a leather-bounded diary and write all the sordid details of how each phallus I meet at meetings are parked, or how I imagined all these blokes making out when they seriously speak about business, other women apart from their wives, or the latest gadget to have launched in their backyards.
Seriously?
Hence I blog
