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NetSlaves: True Tales of Working on the Web
By Steve Baldwin and Bill Lessard
McGraw-Hill
Paperback 256 pp $12.95

In the dot-com heyday, many companies became notorious for labeling employees "not committed" if they left the office before 7 p.m.

But Steve Baldwin, a producer for TimeWarner's Web site, saw this New Economy value taken to new levels when he decided to leave his desk for a few hours to attend his daughter's birthday party one Sunday. He had, after all, spent most of his weekend revamping the company's site. But shortly after he returned from the party, Baldwin says, his boss chewed him out for failing to demonstrate the proper commitment to his post. Baldwin had done the unthinkable: He was not reachable, breaching one of the tenets of the New Economy: Do not stop working.

That incident was just one of many. After 10 miserable months of working 17-hour days, Baldwin and his co-worker, Bill Lessard, decided they were working for "a business that was on crack." Lessard's boss had a breakdown, and his colleagues slid into drug and alcohol abuse. Baldwin began to exhibit symptoms of an overactive thyroid. Both men quit soon after the birthday upbraiding, and Baldwin's mysterious symptoms baffled his doctor by suddenly disappearing.

Baldwin and Lessard's memoir, NetSlaves: True Tales of Working on the Web, was the product of their unemployed gloom. Their goal was to let others know they weren't the only New Economy workers whose glamorous Web jobs were ruining their physical and psychological health. It is dedicated to everyone who has been "burned by the incompetence, moronic planning, and hysterical management of new media companies." Most important, the book told the stories of the working stiffs on the Web -- the Joe or Jane Web Worker rarely profiled by business magazines.

Unfortunately for Baldwin and Lessard, initially no one wanted to publish a book about discontented geeks. Publishers rejected the project as "too whiny" and "too niche-y." Their viewpoint was nothing short of heresy back in the spring of 1998, when the Internet was going to save the world. The duo decided to start a Web site for Net workers, and before long, it was logging 500,000 visitors a month. It was only after the avalanche of e-visits that McGraw-Hill decided that perhaps this niche had some following after all, and signed a book contract. The hardcover version sold 50,000 copies and was translated into German and Portuguese. In the fall of 2000, it came out in paperback, and the writers toyed with the idea of a NetSlaves TV show.

The Studs Terkel-like profiles are sometimes not as compelling reading as a well-crafted nonfiction narrative, such as Michael Wolff's Internet memoir, Burn Rate. And there are little factual errors; for example, the percentages of the NetSlave population held by each caste add up to well over 100 percent -- something closer to 150 percent.

But for the most part, the book accurately and humorously catalogs the perils of the profession. In San Francisco, ground zero of the Internet revolution, librarians reported that they couldn't keep the book on the shelves.

The book's strengths lie in accurately and humorously cataloging the Internet caste system as the authors see it. Lessard says they chose "castes" to dispel the myth that dot-com workplaces shun hierarchies and are democratic. Each of the 12 chapters is dedicated to one of the castes. In deference to Terkel's Working, each job or caste profile is illustrated with a real life dot-com worker whose name and identity has been changed. The jobs run the gamut from lowly "Garbagemen" -- the name given to young tech-support employees who pore thanklessly over Router Weekly -- to "Priests and Madmen," Internet gurus who make wild and unfounded claims about the future of the Web at industry conferences or while touting their latest book. A selection of the other jobs highlighted in the book:

-- Mole People: The Net's lowest caste, to which Baldwin and Lessard say they belong. Moles run the gamut from adolescent hackers to middle-aged Web page builders who are obsessed with their particular product. They are, by and large, unpaid, underappreciated, and unknown. Most who create Web pages build ugly, forgettable pages. Famous mole people include serial hacker Kevin Mitnick and journalist Matt Drudge.

-- Social Workers: Low-paid but obsessive 25- to 35-year-olds who run online chat rooms in pink fuzzy slippers and cigarette-burned undershirts.

-- Cab drivers: Content producers and Web designers who work in poorly ventilated back offices.

-- Fry cooks: Overworked and cubicle-bound Net managers sweating over a legion of projects that are behind schedule.

-- Robots: Once just known as computer nerds or AV geeks, robots are now supergeeks who make six-figure salaries and have no offline lives.

When the popular Web site Slashdot.com (aka "news for nerds") posted a glowing review of NetSlaves, it inspired hundreds of online responses, both pro and con. Fans of the book (especially system administrators) had their own horror stories to tell, and crowed that it was about time someone told the truth about the exploitation in many Net jobs.

But other dot-com employees were critical of NetSlaves. "I've worked as a landscaper/swimming pool builder/Wal-Mart employee, and this tech job beats them all," wrote one reader. "You are in control of your life, and in this economy, if you don't like the work or your boss, find another. Just choose your employer carefully," was another typical response. One critic went so far as to lecture the complainers: "When you are in your 20s, it is a time of apprenticeship, and apprenticeships involve a lot of hard work. This is not unique to the software industry or to high tech. If you have time to be posting on Slashdot, you shouldn't be complaining. Real slaves don't have a choice." Others have criticized NetSlaves for exaggeration and "obscenity," based on a class analysis.

Lesser bristles at this "neo-Maoist rhetoric," as he calls it. "People call us whiners because dot-commers are the new yuppies," he says. "They feel like, 'You're not going to get any sympathy from me because you're all rich.' But that's one of the myths we're trying to dispel. Before the beginning of the dot-com downturn… people were being brainwashed by the media. They believed that most dot-commers were rich or on their way to being rich, which is just not true. Now, since the downturn, the media is disingenuous the other way. Now it's 'The New Dot-Bomb Economy,' the Internet is over, go back to your old jobs."

The truth, Baldwin says, lies somewhere in between. The Web industry isn't over, it's just correcting itself after the IPO mania of the late '90s. Nor did the Web change the world: Those once hierachy-free offices (which NetSlaves says never existed) now have more seasoned senior managers than they once did. Dot-coms are now expected to turn a profit the way every other business must.

While the book NetSlaves dates back to 1998, the issues were regularly updated on NetSlaves.com, the Web site. The Web site no longer exists, but while it was up and running it provided a window into the world of dot-com workers. NetSlaves.com grappled with real issues affecting the New Economy workplace as they happened. Many readers discussed more serious issues, such as drug abuse in the profession, immigration policies for foreign-born technology workers, and dot-com ethics.

Even in the post-boom period, when dot-coms are closing or laying off workers, the profiles remain relevant and informative. While some companies have begun to organize themselves more hierarchically, Web workers still write the authors and tell them they find comfort in reading about people who struggle with flagging idealism, long hours, ageism, and loneliness in their personal lives. Grappling with company loyalty in an era of constant change and sudden unexpected layoffs has been an especially hot topic. "The business magazines are all geared toward net executives," says Lessard. "[We] talk about what the little people face every day on the job."

Visitors to NetSlaves.com exhibited an unusual self-awareness. When NetSlaves.com readers responded to a poll about why they continued to work at their companies, 26 percent said they loved computers, an equal percentage said they had nothing better to do, and an amazing 10 percent said they were doing it to get rich, despite a falling market that told them otherwise. "They still believe that," Lessard says. As for the remaining 38 percent, there was the obvious answer: They said they were gluttons for punishment.

Lessard and Baldwin say they are still working hard on other projects related to the book, but the 17-hour days are a thing of the past. "We're our own bosses now," says Lessard. "Instead of putting all our heart and soul in something that could be taken away at a moment's notice, we're working at something that's all our own, and on stories and issues we really think need to be told."

-- Kathryn Olney is a freelance writer whose work has appeared in Parenting, Wired, Forbes asap, and the Utne Reader, among other publications. She has also been a contributing editor at Mother Jones and executive editor of the Dean Edell Health Newsletter.

First published January 22, 2001
Last updated March 17, 2008
Copyright © 2001 Consumer Health Interactive

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