It happened on a rainy day about three weeks ago. With nothing else to do, I bundled myself up, ran down to the local video store, and rented enough DVDs to get through the day: Seven Samurai, Sparticus, Titanic, and Gone With the Wind.

The villagers were just heading out in search of hungry samurai when my phone rang. This is one of the stranger electronic oddities in my home: If the TV is on, the phone rings. I reluctantly paused the DVD, got up, walked across the room, and answered the telephone.

I should have known—it was my neighbor Norman. You remember Norman, don’t you? President, CEO, Chief Technology Officer, and General Pain In the Neck of SoftPop Software?

"Lincoln," he cried, even more enthusiastically than usual, "we’ve got to talk! I’m going to make you…"

"Norman, I’m kind of busy right now, and I really can’t talk on the phone. I’m, uh, expecting Toshiro Mifune."

He thought about this for a moment. "You’re right. We shouldn’t be talking about this over the phone. I’ll be right over."

He hung up before I could reply. I dashed across the living room and dragged a couch in front of the door.

Unfortunately, my front door swings out and Norman had no trouble opening it (now why hadn’t I locked it?). He clambered over the couch and was inside.

"Guess what?" he cried. "SoftPop is going public and we’re both going to be rich! No, really. Just give me half a million dollars and you’ll remember me fondly until your dying day."

The thought made my head spin. "Norman, I’d rather invest half a million in week-old milk. If I had half a million. Tell you what. I’ll give you five bucks to go home."

"Too low. Here’s the deal: SoftPop is an Internet company, right? After all, we do have a Web site. So we’re going public today. I estimate the current value of the company to be $23.52. You invest half a mill to get the market excited, and by the end of the day we’re worth billions."

There was something about that scenario that really scared me—it could work. "Norman, that can’ t possibly work. No offense, but why would anyone in their right mind want to invest in SoftPop Software?"

"Uh, that’s softpop.com."

"Okay, so you changed your name to match your URL."

"Actually," he corrected me, "just the company is softpop.com. Someone else has the domain name, so our URL is softpopdotcom.dom."

"But why would anyone invest in you?"

"Because we have all of the earmarks of a major e-commerce player" he gushed. "We have no brick and mortar stores, we have a strong presence on the Web, and we have never, ever, turned a profit. What’s more, we don’t believe that we ever will."

"Well, that does fit the profile. But do you really have a strong presence on the Web?"

"Absolutely. Look at companies like Amazon.com and Yahoo! They get tens of millions of clicks every day. Well, we get tens of clicks, too."

"Norman, I’m sorry. I just realized that I’m being a horrible host. Let me move the couch so you can leave."

He looked around nervously, as if he was afraid someone was watching us. Then he spoke in a whisper that was a quiet as a freight train. "Lincoln," he said, "there are rumors of a buyout."

I was skeptical. "Who, pray tell, would be interested in buying out SoftPop Softw…softpop.com?"

"Not sure, yet. Maybe Microsoft. Maybe AOL/Time-Warner. Maybe Irving down the street. It will probably be done with a stock swap. Say, we’ll get five million shares of AOL stock, and they’ll get two cows and a bull."

"There’s definitely bull in the mix somewhere," I agreed.

"It’s all about synergy," he explained. "AOL, for instance, could leverage my products with theirs, so that users could download my software via their AOL connection over Warner’s Roadrunner cable system. Or maybe we could give away a free videotape with each copy of one of my programs. Would you buy Toenail Trim Scheduler Plus if it came with a copy of My Left Foot?"

"Norman, I wouldn’t buy Toenail Trim Scheduler Plus if it really came with your left foot. Now would you please leave?"

That struck him. Norman looked at me with sad eyes. Then he gathered up his dignity and raised himself to his full 5’ 3". "Well, Lincoln, I guess some people just don’t want to get rich. Here I am, offering you a place on the ground floor, with every likelihood in the world that you’ll go even lower, and you’re throwing it away. Next week when I’m worth billions, you’ll kick yourself for not jumping at this opportunity."

I sighed. "Norman, tell you what. If you promise to leave right now, I’ll give you a check for $100. Is that a deal?"

He beamed. "Okay." I wrote the check, he took, and he was out the door.

The next day, softpop.com went public and became another Internet success story. Norman became a billionaire, and my $100 investment was suddenly worth $400 million.

The day after that, Wall Street woke as if from a bad dream, and my $400 million was worth about 43 cents. But hey, I got to watch the rest of my movies.

© Copyright 2000 by Lincoln Spector

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