Taking Back the Internet: Creating a Passive-Aggressive Income Stream

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Tom Stern

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Psst. Hey, you. That's right, the one who's staring at your computer screen. Come over here. No, no, over here. I need a place where we can talk privately, because what I am about to tell you is so explosive, so potentially incendiary to the entire world order that I fear for my own life. It's quite possible that any day now I could be walking down the street and accosted by two artsy-looking, t-shirt wearing henchmen. These tousled slackers with wireless mouse-shaped tasers will momentarily paralyze me, throw a hood (imprinted with the Apple logo) over my head and roll me into the trunk of what will probably be a Prius, I will be told to "relax, enjoy the ride and think different." Then, I'll wake up in a pristinely bright and shiny white room strapped to a Herman Miller Aeron Chair sitting across from Steve Jobs, who'll pace back-and-forth menacingly screaming, "you thought you could get away with it, didn't you Stern?" as he commands his trendy assistant to fill a washtub with Perrier and lime slices -- so that I can be water-boarded in style (I believe the proper term is i-Interrogated). As I recount my potential fate, I do not have the temerity to speculate what torturous punishment awaits you for just reading this. But I would strongly suggest that from now on you keep a snorkel and a three-piece wetsuit in your briefcase at all times.

My whole nerve-jangling corporate kidnapping fantasy scenario began with two separate, seemingly unrelated incidents. Firstly, I received yet another e-mail from a colleague with a tagline at the bottom reading "sent from my iPhone." (It's not like I don't get these all the time from people who own BlackBerries, but somehow this was the product placement post-script that broke the consumer camel's back.) Secondly, I've been visited with a flurry of reply e-mails joking about the unlikely links to advertisers that my service provider thoughtfully, and without my consent, adds to the bottom of my outgoing messages. ("Hey, Tom, thanks for the info, but I don't need a fast-acting, imported German chocolate laxative sachertorte right now." "Appreciate the sentiment, Tom, but I'm really not looking for a pre-owned prosthetic limb, even if it does have a built-in Bose Wave radio with six-CD changer.")

We would never tolerate such promotional brashness in our everyday lives. Imagine the closing moments of a successful first date. Goodbyes are said, there is a touching acknowledgement of the fact that both parties have had a wonderful evening, and as you move in for the kiss, out comes a brochure for a low-cost, easy-to-install in-home septic system. Yet, in business, there is a tacit acceptance that we all have our own agenda, and that social intercourse is often only a preamble to the consummation of an even more important interface; the transaction. So on some level we must know that as companies romance us with volume discounts and wine and dine us with Web-exclusive pricing, they are hoping to take us home and data mine us into the night, then discreetly sneak out before breakfast.

This is how The Gap not only knows that I favor cotton blend shirts and pre-washed relaxed-fit jeans, but a piercingly spicy arrabiatta sauce followed by a flourless Tiramisu. Staples keeps track of my preference for recycled paper products, day-glo highlighters and my tendency at the end of each quarter to short-sell their stock. It's like that scene in "Minority Report," where Tom Cruise enters the mall and is bombarded with buying options based on his shopping profile. No longer that far-fetched, although in real life all Tom would really need is a collection of high-backed, sturdy velour couches that can double as trampolines or a pair of two thousand dollar Italian loafers with six inch heels.

What's being ignored throughout the marketing assault on our electronic communications is the opportunity for a second career: a passive income stream. And I'm not talking Tupperware, or becoming an affiliate in the booming koi farm business. This is a real career milestone, but it's going to take some serious chutzpah on our part to take back our power in the click-driven marketplace. Quite simply, we are being used. Every second of every day, we are carrying messages about a plethora of products to our thousands of cyberspace contacts, and nobody ever asked us if we would like a cut of the action. We, all of us, should be the tollbooth collectors on the information superhighway, except that right now every car is blowing through our gates while we sit there eating doughnuts and reading Dean Koontz.