Connecting this home service is a case study in forced modernization. Back in the ‘90s, I was a lonely outpost out west; a person with home Internet service. I didn’t know how it worked but it certainly did. I knew exactly four people who had any idea what the fuss was about. None of my immediate acquaintances or co-workers knew the first thing about computers. Wallace went from probably thinking I was a geek nerd to now, when he has very little use for a computer unless it is connected to the Internet. There are a lot of people who went from zero to expert in just the last few years, amazing, isn’t it? Hopefully one day I will catch up to them.
The reason I was in the shop was to find a compiler. Nobody has one and only Fred knew what it was. The problem rearing up again is timing usage on my rental computers. I broke even this month, a wonder in itself during the summer. Still, there is money slipping through the cracks and I cannot afford to sit there and watch the place. An automated system is needed. Thorough investigation reveals there seems to be no simple device on the market, or if there is, it cannot be found easily. Every timing system I have found is off-site.
To make it clear, the systems I have located involve signing up with a company that has a centralized billing computer. Your customers purchase swipe cards similar to phone cards but with an expiry date, usually 90 days. This is to be avoided at almost any cost simply because it allows strangers to learn how much money your business is transacting. Note that although I myself am totally honest, I still recommend to others to always keep their business affairs private. That is, clamped down, completely, utterly private. You don’t even discuss it with your wife. Well, you do, but only in a manner that won’t tarnish you in court. Did you know divorces are the primary source of evidence for the tax department? Thus, I must take another look at programming something myself. The market for something like this must be huge.
For something to do, I auditioned at Boston Johnny’s. The crowd reaction was predictable, since it is a rock club. The chicks loved my music, the guys thought there was “something missing”. They meant a guitar player (like I don’t know that) but what it is really missing is their ability to listen to what I was doing. I had the chicks up dancing but in the end, the chicks were the only ones who tipped, liked my show, and complimented me. I now have second thoughts about playing there. My equipment was a little too small for the task, as well. You don’t realize how large a cavity that place is until you are standing up on the stage. Hey, on my portfolio I can now put that I played solo at the premier rock blues club in this town.