After nearly seventeen years with IBM, in July of 2000, I left for a startup called Telleo founded by four IBM Researchers I knew and trusted. From 1983 through April 1994, I worked at IBM Research in NY and often dealt with colleagues at the Almaden Research Center in Silicon Valley. When they asked me to join, there was no interview; I already had impressed all four of them years earlier, this was in May of 2000. In March of 2001, the implosion of Telleo was evident. Although I’d not been laid off, I voluntarily quit just before Telleo stopped paying on their IBM lease, which I’d negotiated. The DotCom bubble burst in late 2000, so by early 2001, you were toast if you weren’t running on revenue. Now, if you didn’t live in Silicon Valley during 2001, imagine a large mining town where the mine had closed, this was close to what it was like, just on a much grander scale. Highway 101 had gone from packed during rush hour to what it typically looked like during the weekend. Venture Capitalists drew the purse strings closed, and if you weren’t running on revenue, you were out of business. Most dot-com startups bled red monthly and eventually expired.

Now imagine being an unemployed technology executive in the epicenter of the worst technology employment disaster in history, up until that point, with a wife who volunteered and two young kids. I was pretty motivated to find gainful employment. For the past few years, a friend of mine had run a small Internet Service Provider and had allowed me to host my Linux server there in return for some occasional consulting.

I’d set Nessus up on that server, along with several other tools, so it could be used to ethically hack client’s Internet servers, only by request, of course. One day when I was feeling particularly desperate, I wrote a small Perl script that sent a simple cover letter to jobs@X.com. Where “X” was a simple string starting with “aa” and eventually ending at “zzzzzzzz”. It would wait a few seconds between each email, and since these were to jobs@x.com I figured it was an appropriate email blast. Remember this was 2001, before SPAM was a widely used term. I thought “That’s what the “jobs” account is for anyway, right?” My email was very polite and requested a position and briefly highlighted my career.

Well, somewhere around 4,000 emails later, I got shut down, and my Internet domain, ScottSchweitzer.com was Black Holed. For those not familiar with the Internet version of this term, it essentially means no email from your domain even enters the Internet. If your ISP is a friend and he fixes it for you, he can run the risk of getting sucked in, and all the domains he hosts get sucked into the void as well. Death for an ISP. Fortunately, my friend that ran the ISP was a life-long IBMer, and he had networking connections at some of the highest levels in the Internet, so the ban stopped with my domain. 

To clean this up required some emails and phone calls to fix the problem from the top down. It took two weeks and a fair amount of explaining to get my domain back online to the point where I could once again send out emails. Fortunately, I always have at least several active email accounts, and domains. Also, this work wasn’t in vain, as I’d received a few consulting gigs as a result of the email blast. So now you know someone who was banned from the Internet!