Life was moving along swimmingly. I certainly had established a routine: No lasting relationship. No career advancement. Just little diversions I created to keep myself entertained.

Let's face it, I was in a rut.

I'd interviewed in Long Beach and Las Vegas. I had phone interviews with people in Pasadena and Milwaukee (average winter temperature 25 degrees, are you kidding?), but declined the trips out for face-to-face meetings.

I met with a recruiter from Microsoft's Sidewalk, the promised super site that was supposedly a threat to so many newspapers. I was dressed in a suit; he in Levis and T-shirt.

Apparently, some of my own people had interviews with them also because they hired some of my young staff members but failed to call me back. Maybe they sent me an e-mail. I don't know, I didn't have e-mail.

Boredom, not procrastination, became my worst enemy and I was going in multiple directions simultaneously.

One of my favorite diversions had begun a few years earlier when I began little jaunts to similar beach communities up along California's coast. I'd be dining atop a pier when I would hear police sirens nearby. I would jump up, grabbing paper napkins or anything I could use to take notes on before realizing that I didn't need to find out what was going on. It wasn't my beat, I wasn't on duty.

When I traveled, I could not halt my fascination with the free, local publications in each town I visited. On occasion I would stop in to say hello; kind of getting a feel for how other companies worked. Traveling is great because people have no idea who you are or what you do. Oh, the wonderful freedom of assuming a new identity — just like a crafty investigative reporter. I wouldn't always tell them that I was an editor, but my appearance in their offices always seemed to get them uptight anyway. I don't think it was because I was asking too many questions, I think it was because they were on deadline. So, I realized what it must be like for others to visit our own office on a busy day (Ah, not the carefree little beach paper it appears). I knew we should have paid more attention to customer service. After all, there is a customer service revolution in progress, you know.

On one of my tours I was killing the day by sunning, visiting my favorite beach bars and jawing with the locals. I grew tired of my usual oceanside meal choice of clam chowder and chardonnay so I switched over to a cool crab cocktail while I chatted to a group of alluring waitresses on a very slow day at Tony's on the Redondo Beach pier. When one of them asked me a question about a personal health issue of hers, I had to admit that, no, I wasn't really a doctor. The day wasn't lost, however, because I had discovered a taste for crab and soon began my search for the best and cheapest crustacean dishes in California. I was single and traveled alone, so it gave me a mission of sorts. Soon I was experiencing crab cakes and lobster bisque, and noting which establishments carried my favorite crustacean fare and which did not. I continued my search even when I was back in San Diego, pretending to still be on vacation.

My wandering, both mentally and physically, came to an end when I received a phone call in response to a resume I sent out months earlier. After a couple of short interviews I had a job offer and the task of telling my employers of more than eight years that I would be leaving. I was not only nervous about telling them, I was nervous about all the preparations I would be responsible for prior to my departure. The clock was running and I had to recruit a new editor and a reporter, plus I had to advise the publishers of how to configure the department in my absence and train the staff to take over. My anxiety was also due to the fact that I would be joining a business trade magazine dealing with insurance (a subject I knew little about), and from the looks of things, I would have my hands full right from the start.