Entry 2:

The Internet was made for workers like me--on the phone all day--and no time is better than Tuesday morning, in the calm after yesterday's deadline storm. I spend 20 minutes e-touring a research station in Antarctica, peering into the tiny domiciles, personalized, like cubicles, with postcards and knickknacks. I imagine myself on the lonely continent, conducting vital scientific research, venturing out in the sub-zero temperatures to gather data. Then the phone rings: It's Bill Bicks calling to change the font size on his ad "Make Big $$$ From Home--Up to $2K/Week!" (I'm wondering if the folks in Antarctica have considered this for those long winter months.) Bill works for a company that goes by the misnomer GoodWork Management. They rotate their ads weekly: from phone sex to employment ads for collection agents to get-rich-quick schemes. When I tell him his four-line ad will run him about $12--and that's at the cheapest frequency rate the paper has to offer--he cries out, "Whoa! That's pretty pricey!" Bill's niggardliness and expressions of shock and outrage over sums under $20 earn him entry into my Golden Circle of Pain-in-the-Ass Advertisers--they're all so fun to hate. Last week, when I missed a space between two words, Bill called to report the error. "It's really the principle of it that bothers me, and I'm a principled person," he explained, demanding that I comp the ad for the next three weeks.

The calls trickle in all morning. Inevitably, someone has missed yesterday's deadline and believes he can beg, plead, or bully his way into the upcoming edition. Some people I feel genuininely bad for, and I regret informing them that their employment ad for a desperately needed nurse at an elderly care facility will have to wait for more than a week, as the seniors go without health services. For obvious reasons, I'm not allowed to tell these latecomers to put the ad in a daily paper, and it always surprises me how many people fail to recognize this option. As for the latter class of callers--expletive-spewing, I'm-going-to-talk-to-your-manager-threatening, and otherwise obnoxious--well, there's something quite delightful about mustering up my most saccharine voice and chirping: Sorry, the paper is already at the printers (lie). For the future our deadline is Monday, 4 p.m. sharp. Well, we're sorry you feel that way, as we consider you a most valued customer.

After lunch I begin "prospecting": making cold calls to businesses based on leads, other advertisements in our rival paper, or just a plain old hunch. My beat is health and real estate (although I do have my share of the "adult entertainers" such as Edna Tilley--more about them later). A lot of my advertisers in the health category straddle the lines between psychotherapist/New Age healer/psychic/mentor/yoga instructor. Some provide a deluxe package: therapy, incense, and a demonstration of the full lotus position. Today, I make calls out of the phone book. This week, I target New Age healers and throw in one cosmetic surgeon for good measure (ambitious, yes, but stranger things have happened). A lot of these "holistic professionals," as they like to be called, do business from home, and they all must be in session, because I hit voice mail every time. Voice mail must be the enemy on of telemarketers everywhere. Just hit pound, and poof! We're erased.

At 3:15 I get a bite. The plastic surgeon who does hair-removal returns my call. She's interested in a display ad with a photo of a woman's long, shiny (hairless) legs. My department, Classifieds, sells line advertising (like the help-wanted section) and all the display advertising (larger ads that includes graphics) that appear in the back of the paper. The Display department sells ads only into the main body of the paper, next to editorial content. Because we're a free publication, ads are our lifeblood--and they're everywhere. Once I explain the difference, damn, she opts for the front of the paper. Which means I'll have to transfer her to Display.

The separation between Classifieds and Display is emphasized by a physical separation--they are located on the other side of the building. After three months here, I still can't name one Display-ad rep, but I've heard they distinguish themselves by dressing better. Display's clients are bigger, richer, and more respectable--a standard full-page announcement of a movie release being a classified-ad rep's pipe dream. There is secret resentment, talk of "switching over." We have Wet, Wild & Barely Legal. They have Cleaner, Brighter Teeth With Cosmetic Dentistry.

When I hit the street at 5:50 p.m., it's just started to rain. The unending rain in this city, I've found, is conducive to introspection. Self-criticism, to be exact. (Studies claim that this region produces an inordinate number of serial killers, suicides, and general laziness at work. I think it's due to the rain.) Tonight, I wonder about where this job will lead. Friends from college are in med school, joining the Peace Corps. New friends in this city are making millions at Internet startups. Lately, I've been feeling that I missed the bus and there's not another scheduled for a long, long time. I tell myself I'm learning valuable skills in salesmanship that will be with me in whatever career I ultimately choose to pursue. But then again, maybe this is a line I'm just selling myself.