To establish our intellectual, cutting-edge credentials, we decided to bring down a leading expert on telecommunications technology and regulation to speak on recent trends and developments in the industry. We chose a highly regarded individual in this field, Professor Eli Noam from Columbia University, who ran a telecommunications institute. I visited him and met with his staff. I invited him to tour our facilities, and some members of our team even attended his seminars. By the time I finished, Professor Noam not only liked our organization, but also was willing to speak at our presentation. More importantly, we had become friends. This friendship later resulted in the formation of the Digital Freedom Network, which works with human rights groups around the world to fight against press censorship and governmental repression.

Finally, we took a secret step that we held in reserve until just before the conference: We abolished the credit card requirement. This involved tremendous manpower and equipment costs, because it involved creating two parallel Internet systems. One would handle only regular dial-up users, while the other would only service credit card users. Any user with a valid ID could pass through the dial-up lines, but only those who were credit-card-validated could gain toll-free access. Though this solution seems simple, it actually took months of around-the-clock programming to have it functional in time for COMNET. But now we were ready.

Or should I say, they were ready. Our management group had decided at the last moment that I was a liability. I was, after all, a businessman. I owned IDT. I was out to make a profit, and in this context, profit was a dirty word. Furthermore, if the IIA was going to portray itself as an independent organization, it should only be represented by its own staff and executive director, not by its benefactors or service providers. The management group also told me that they were afraid to have me answering questions because I was a loose cannon, prone to say whatever came into my head, whether it was politically correct or not. I didn’t argue, because I knew they were right. This was their show.

Just how much it was their show became apparent to me as soon as I took my seat in the back row of the IIA auditorium. It wasn’t just that I had to wear someone else’s name badge, which irked me, nor was it the fact that I couldn’t be up on stage horsing around with my buddies. No, what drove me up the wall was that these lunatics had ordered platters of fruit, cakes, and cookies, along with coffee service provided by the convention’s caterer. These kinds of amenities are as expensive as having fresh blueberries flown in from Australia during the winter for your breakfast cereal. This was costing a fortune. Sure, it added to our credibility, but who did they think was paying for these cookies? I didn’t know whether to count cookies or reporters. Soon the answer was obvious. As the room filled to overflowing, there were far too many reporters to count. I gave one of them my seat and moved near the catering display. From here I could get a better view of the proceedings and also get my money’s worth by eating the fruit before the vultures descended.