by Susan Cronk

Created on: September 27, 2007

The Pitch: A New Millennium Tragedy

The pitcher walked confidently to the computer and tapped the "on" button. The disk drives began to whir and the processor purred to life. He held a cup of coffee in one hand and a fist full of mouse in the other, clicked the big E on the computer screen, and stepped onto the cyber mound. A quick check of his email inbox told him how many rookies he had hooked in the last 24 hours. The count climbed into the hundreds immediately, and at $39.95 each his daily take would be high. The hundreds of ads he cross posted to the job boards were going to pay big dividends. People desperate for legitimate work were willing to gamble the $39.95 they might have needed for groceries, gasoline, past-due bills, or a winter coat for their child to get what he offered - a chance at a world-class income. He wished he monopolized the market but that wouldn't work. There were thousands of pitchers like him who were making a living by selling others, on selling others, on selling others. Flooding online job boards with million-dollar promises was just one more way of getting at the rookies who would pay for their chance. The pitcher knew that eventually the scheme would begin to dry up, but until then he vowed to keep pitching hard and fast, and to take advantage of every inroad. Blah blah blah blah blah, so the rhetoric went. The ads were the wind up.

"Are you tired of working for someone else and getting nowhere? Blah blah blah. Are you ready to have all the riches you've ever dreamed of? Blah blah blah. Are you tired of punching someone else's time clock? Blah blah blah. Look at me in front of my big house, and big boat, and see my wife's big diamond rings. Look at me and my happy family vacationing at resorts and splashing in our Olympic-sized backyard pool. Look at me driving down Hollywood Boulevard in my luxury car. See me being admired for my wealth. Blah blah blah. Money will make you happy and I can help you get rich. Don't delay. Send $39.95 and I will tell you how." The rookies never seemed to notice the hissing noise when the pitch was released.

At nine o'clock another rookie logged on. He had been out of work for weeks and the bills were piling up. He had $40 left in his checking account. His kids were tired of eating peanut butter. They wanted to go out for a hamburger and he wanted to take them, but even $1 meant the difference between a pint of milk in the refrigerator or none, between a loaf of bread or eating peanut butter off

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