When I listened to my voice mail, the male voice said, “Hello, Anne Giles Clelland, or however you say it. Eric Schmidt is from BHS and is coming to Blacksburg.” Some personal commentary followed, then, “Yes, Eric Schmidt of Google will be at the Lyric Theater.”
Having just begun using Twitter only hours earlier and including in one of my tweets that Eric Schmidt of Google was coming to town and that a colleague had confirmed he was the brother of one of my high school classmates, and having blogged about his visit the other day, I felt awed by the power of words on Web 2.0. Eric Schmidt had found me.
I also felt sad. The voice was business-like, not warm, and even could be considered coldly in the third person. How I translated what I heard? “You’re just another media type trying to take advantage of who you know. But because of who you know, my sibling, I’m calling to confirm that, yes, I’m coming to Blacksburg.’
What to do? Why, e-mail Eric Schmidt, tell him I was touched by his call, reassure him that I would not presume to use such a distant connection, nor reveal what he had said in his voice mail, and to share that I consider myself a vendor to Google and do my very best to provide excellent content which can show up as excellent search results for his clients.
I wasn’t able to find his e-mail address.
I looked at the missed messages in my cell phone. A Blacksburg number was listed. He must have been in town early to see old friends.
I summoned my courage. I returned Eric Schmidt’s call.
I reached the colleague who had confirmed by e-mail that I had gone to school with Eric Schmidt’s sibling. He is also a classmate’s big brother, didn’t know my new married name well, and like all big brothers, thought he didn’t have to identify himself to his little sister’s friends. He was the one - not Eric - who had called to confirm his information to me and to offer more details. I just hadn’t recognized his voice.
What did I learn from this experience?
1) I never, ever, ever want to be that close again to a lack-of-integrity “I’m somebody because I know so-and-so.” Not in a blog, not on Twitter, not on the phone, not in person. Never.
I’m going to stand in line at the Lyric Theater like everyone else. If I don’t get in, so be it. I’ll still be able to stand up for myself and for what I believe in. Even a seat in the Lyric to hear Eric Schmidt isn’t worth losing that.
2) I believed that Eric Schmidt had called me. I was disappointed that he hadn’t. I continue to be full of wonder at the possibilities of Web 2.0. That I am not going to lose.
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