It has taken a while to force myself to write tonight. I'm back to being very angry. I had mentioned being punished a couple days ago, for something I didn't do. Well, now I see no reason not to explain. I had put ads on the blog, just a couple small ones, thinking that it would be good for a few dollars, eventually, enough to make me feel like I was a legitimate professional writer. At least one paycheck is required to call it a profession, right? I did this months ago, probably five of them? It was never more than a little money. Last month was the biggest amount, around $35. It was finally enough to cross the threshold for my first payout, with a grand total of $104 and change. I was so proud. I was for real! It was probably four days later, I got an email telling me my account was disabled for "invalid click activity." Very vague, very accusatory. I hadn't done anything. I didn't ask for clicks in my text, I didn't touch a single ad myself. I saw traffic from sources that were obvious bots, but it wasn't the bulk of my readership. I tried to ignore them and reach real people with my writing. I filled out the appeal form, but I had no faith it would succeed. Tonight, that was proven correct. Google claims that revealing just how they determined the clicks were invalid would reveal proprietary information, and the case was closed. In other words, it was a big FU to the little blogger lady. My daughter suggested I search to see how often this happens, and it happens very often. Giant accounts seem to be fine, but thousands of us little guys are screwed every year. They claim that the money is returned to the advertisers, but even if I had proof of the veracity of that, I guarantee that they will have kept their operating expenses, plus any interest collected on all of the funds they held while I waited to reach $100. I feel like a goddamned rounding error, and I don't like it.
I have a lot of friends who are germaphobes, but I am assuredly not one of them. I'm really okay with the knowledge of how many symbiotic bacteria live on and in us. It doesn't freak me out. I don't like to consume antibiotics unless it is absolutely necessary (allergies play into this one too). I never use hand sanitizers, unless I have no water options for hand washing. I trust that my immune system can handle it. I even exercise it (sometimes inadvertently) by using a dirty spoon to stir my coffee or eat leftovers that sat out of the refrigerator for way, way too long. Last week, a child in a shopping cart coughed open-mouthed as he was pushed, and I shrugged and walked through his air, thinking I will either have the antibodies to fight it, or I will develop them.
Tonight, I was very glad I am no germaphobe, because it was the day to do that grossest of tasks for crazy cat ladies: deep-cleaning the cat boxes. Periodically you have to dump out every bit of litter, and wash the plastic tubs. It doesn't bother me. I just keep an old sponge handy, and I scrub them barehanded, and wash me after. I think after my response from Adsense, I felt more crapped on by them than I did elbow deep in cat box cleaning.
No pictures. The way I feel, I would probably put a Hello My Name Is label on a pile of cat poo, write in Adsense, and make that my picture for the day.
No comments:
Post a Comment