Friday, August 06, 2010
The above really old song that was also featured in the Tom Arnold movie “The Stupids” keeps running through my head.
About oh, 2 weeks ago something happened on my e-mail. At first I didn’t really notice UNTIL I replied to a published and had the e-mail halted in its tracks for “having possible spam” from my anti-virus company provided by my cable company/server.
I thought, “What? I’m sending it with the same stuff I always include in my freelance writing packets: resume, reference sheet and some links to articles-why would it now be considered spam?”
It took numerous re-sends, but it finally went through. Then it happened more and more vigorously within the next few days. I tried to get help from my server and was told I had been “blacklisted” for having sent out 100’s of spam to the same amount of ISPs.
“I most certainly did not!” I told them and they were hampering my business and costing me both clients, publications and most important-INCOME.
The first 2 techs were not all that helpful in my quest to get back to work. The third gave me 2 agencies to contact and helped me send them requests to “de-list” me. Then he threw up his hands (I saw it through my telephone, I swear) and told me he had done all he could.
As soon as my husband (my own personal savior in so many ways) came home I set him to work on the problem. He wound up calling a 4th tech-who told him I was blacklisted because evidently someone (who is still nameless and obviously has not a drop of morals) hacked into my account to infiltrate other unsuspecting people. He gave my husband yet another 2 e-mail addresses to send my blocked clients addresses too so they could unblock them one by one. Oh and to send it via my back up e-mail as obviously I wouldn’t get very far sending it from this one.
Yeah, right. Oh-he said I might be better off killing this main account and making a new one! What? Of course-that sure met with scornful looks which my husband verbally passed on to techie #4.
It is a slow and painful task. I seemed to be able to send up to 5 or so e-mails in a day without a problem, after that-I’m told that I’m spreading spam and to save me from myself, I’m being blocked.
Hence why the song “I’m my own grandpa” keeps running through my head.
Now, if I could just get the vision of Tom Arnold out of my brain, it might not be all that bad.