Of Linkydink and the New Coffee Pot

What a day!  What a day!  I never knew birthdays could be such hard work, but yesterday's torrid schedule about did me in.

In a good way, mostly---lunch at Trinity with Debbie and Willie, a quick visit with my mother who made these 66 years possible,  a trip to Moose Valley Farms with my sisters and their pups and dinner at the Hydra with Bill.   

Overall, a very lovely day. 

Nonetheless, I must talk about a touch of senility that I endured shortly after turning 66.  

I knew the error of my ways immediately after touching the button that clicked the link on Linkydink.

Actually, I had not yet coined "LinkedIn" as Linkydink, but it did not take long for an 84-year-old friend of the Love family from Oakdale (Gene---for you, Margaret and Katie) to inform me that she stays away from networking schemes like "Linkidink" and Facebook.

"Email is enough for me," she wrote.

Her note confirmed that I had, indeed, done a bad, senile and stupid thing when I inadvertently, clicked that link that immediately told me I had just invited 175 people to join my network on LinkedIn.

And, at that very moment of reading Gene's polite reply to my "invitation," the obsessive networking nuisance turned to "Linkidink" for me.

The mail and the very valid excuses for not joining Linkidink have been arriving at my inboxes ever since.  

I've responded to some of them, apologizing and explaining that I don't even remember how I ever got connected with the social/business-oriented network in the first place.

I think it was several years ago when maybe once a month or even fewer times, someone would send me a message asking me to "Accept" them or "recommend" them.

Back in those ancient times of Linkidink history, I didn't mind. 

But lately!

Oh, my!   

The requests have been coming fast and furious.  Each time I groan, but each time I say to myself, "Well, if it's of help to them, I'll do it."  

So, I go in----wading through the Linkidink gauntlet to tell some computer that, yes, I do accept So-and-So into my network. 

Of course, once there, I'm presented with all kinds of Linkidink choices, including opportunities to spend the day recommending all those who now share my network. 

I've often threatened to rid myself forever of Linkidink, but then a name will show up, and I comply with their wishes.  

In yesterday's case, it was my younger brother. 

So, of course, one more time, I had to run the gauntlet and accept him.  

Something happened during that visit into the infinite realm of Linkidink, however, and I accidentally pushed that infamous button that immediately goes into action inviting all those people to feel sorry for me and accept me cuz I might need a job. 

The error of my ways haunted me throughout the day and the night, as I wondered what all those retired people who are not exactly looking for a job were thinking of me, asking them if they would "accept" me into their network.

The impact was too great.  This morning I UNSUBSCRIBED to Linkidink, and I'm hoping never to hear from it again.  Only problem is I changed email addresses a while back to get the darned thing into a seldom-used address so I would not have to groan so often.

Now, however,  Linkidink comes to my normal address but does not recognize me at my normal address, meaning that I can't go through the gauntlet and tell it to "Get the Hell out of My Life and don't ever come back again." 

The moral of this story is that if you received an invitation to "accept" me please throw it in the trash immediately.  I probably like you, but I'm not looking to enhance my professional network by asking you to like me.  

After all, I'm turning senile, and the age discrimination gods don't want me anyway. 

I shall regret forever pushing that button cuz I'm guessing Linkidink does not give up easily. 

Anyway, on to better thoughts.  Thanks to birthday generosity, I have a better coffee pot, and it works. 

Bill was so excited about his gift of a Keurig coffee maker that this morning that he read all the instructions and then took the pot through its maiden purge.

After purging, he pulled out a paper packet of French roast, placed it in the slot and asked me to do the honor of pushing the "brew" button.

"Voila," the pot went to work, and in less than a minute, French roast aroma was wafting through the air, and his cup of fresh brew was full.   

Bill seems delighted with the purchase, and I'll look forward to preparing my afternoon fix later today.  

In the meantime, I'm thrilled that my pushing the button on the Keurig pot this second morning of being 66 turned out much better than Linkidink button disaster of yesterday.  

I think I'll be glad to "accept" this pot and maybe even "recommend" it.