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November 11, 1999

A couple weeks ago, I attended a New Media convention at the Metropolitan Pavilion in New York’s "Silicon Alley."

"New Media" is all the rage in New York. Open any newspaper, look at any billboard, tune in to any radio station, or flip on the TV at any hour and you will find ads for "dot-coms," Dot-com companies didn’t exist a decade ago. In fact, ten years ago, most of the folks running these dot-coms were picking zits in the mirror while worrying about their upcoming algebra test.

There is a singular goal for the majority of these dot-coms: Make the two 23-year-old founders (and the venture capitalist firm that is funding them) a lot of money. While making money is not a bad thing—not a bad thing at all—not much thought is given to anything else besides getting rich quickly. Is the product of real value to consumers? Will the loyal employees still have jobs five years down the road? Does the company make a profit? None of this matters. The idea is to draw up a nice business plan with lots of neat Power Point slides, get a VC firm to pump in a couple rounds of financing to keep the new company afloat long enough to generate a lot of "buzz" in the marketplace so that when the initial public offering happens, the stock will soar through the roof, making the founders and the VC firm lots of quick cash.

But none of these companies actually make any money. That’s the real funny thing about the dot-coms: They all operate in the red. The entire industry is completely speculative. I go to all these conferences and listen to these Poland Spring-or-Diet Coke-sipping 24-year-old "CEOs" wearing dark blue shirts and silly little goatees tell the gathered crowd about the importance of pure plays and enhanced verticals and sticky portals and good traction. This need to invent a new word or phrase every other day is a cover for the fact that none of these jokers have any real business experience. They speak nonsense, but with confidence. And confidence will carry a person a long way.

But there is a difference between confidence and cockiness, which takes me to today’s story. So there I was at this New Media cocktail party / convention. As I work for a traditional "brick-and-mortar" organization, I represented the oldest company in attendance at this function. (And also the only company making healthy profits every quarter.) I came because I knew there’d be lots of free stuff to eat and drink. (That’s probably the biggest reason these dot-coms don’t make any money. They throw away tons of money they don’t have on these huge parties at very expensive venues with catered food and top-shelf booze.) Ah, but they’ll recoup their losses. This economy is bound to keep expanding endlessly. There’s no way in hell the bottom will drop out and we’ll have another recession. (Cue foreboding music.)

But times are good, and while these greedy, starry-eyed blue shirts are footing the bill, I’ll go to their parties and eat their food and drink their beer and look at their girls and in return, I’ll listen to what they have to say. At least for a few minutes.

As I twisted the cap off a fresh, free Budweiser, a gentleman approached me to tell me all about what his web company could do for our site. After a few seconds, it was apparent to me that this guy had never actually looked at our web site. But, what the hell, I had a beer in my hand and a delicious finger-sandwich in my mouth, so I was fine for awhile. The guy kept talking and I kept eating until we were both done.

"Well, listen, your service sounds very interesting" I told him, "so why don’t you give me a business card and I’ll give you a call tomorrow."

"I don’t have a business card" the man told me.

"Oh…well…okay, here…just write your info down on the back of mine."

"You don’t understand" the man said with a stern face, "I don’t do paper."

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"It means, I don’t do paper. No business cards…ever. I’m totally digital."

"Okay…well…I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say" I replied, genuinely perplexed.

"Just hand me your Palm Pilot and I’ll download the information from mine" he volunteered.

"I don’t have a Palm Pilot" I told him.

The man took a half-step back. "Oh…well…the people that are at a level at which I like to do business all have Palm Pilots."

It took me a couple seconds to reply. "Are you serious?"

"Absolutely."

"Are you insulting me?"

"Consider it a little friendly, professional advice. If you want to be taken seriously in the Big Leagues, you need to have the right equipment for the game."

I was completely stunned. The man walked away before I could say anything. Had I thought of it, I would have asked him just how much money did his company make this past year? Or better yet, had I the balls, I would have ripped his little Palm Pilot out of his hands, dropped it on the ground, and stomped on it with my Kenneth Cole Reaction shoes. "What are you gonna do now, punk?!" Of course, I didn’t think or do anything. I was just dumbfounded by this man’s arrogance.

When I went to work the next day and told this story to the folks in my department, they all asked me, "What company did this guy work for?"

"I don’t know" I told them, "I don’t have his business card!"

 

Broadway Jim Sosnicky