I’ve been working full time trying to find work. Small jobs trickle in, but this month — and last — not so much. It’s ten years post IR, Internet Revolution, with four kids, a dog and a day off from school. Oh, and the economy’s tanking and no one’s hiring and if they are, they’re not sure they can pay you – ever. Freelancers like me spend more time soliciting work, than actually working. Once established, however, it’s a RJ — a real job — with somewhat odd hours, but the initial hustling of jobs is exhausting. And slow. And frustrating. And I’m getting a bit desperate.
Just when I thought it was safe to be a lunch lady, I got a call from an agency for not just a rush job, but a super-cool-man-oh-man-is-this-awesome job. Not for any junk mail shell game client (not like that’s a bad thing) but a super impressive world-renowned, high-end, make or break your portfolio client. Money’s so-so, but better then slinging hashbrowns at the middle school, so yippee! I’m back in business.
Did I tell you it’s a rush? They want copy tomorrow. No problem. Except it’s Yom Kippur and while we don’t celebrate (is it celebrating – atonement? Hmmm), the kids are home from school. All of them. And some extras.
And the phone rings. It’s a job I’ve applied for, and they want to talk. And a sick relative is beeping through, someone who’s walking the tightrope of mental illness, and neighbor’s at the door, because since I stay home anyways, can SusieQ come over to play while mom’s at work, and I’m on deadline for that cool job. And husband can’t take any time off because he’s got “important meetings.” Ooooooh, important!
[NOTE: I stopped freelancing 10 years ago because his meetings trumped mine. It’s a timeless, endless battle of the sexes that apparently hasn’t subdued in a decade of women’s, technological and work/family advancements. Should be an interesting weekend here at the ranch…]
No thanks to him, I got the work done. Pissed? You betcha. (Agggh! Do you cringe as I do to read/say/hear that word these days?)
Good news, I got the chance to write for a great, fabulous client. Better news, the agency loved it. Awaiting the hat-trick to see what the client thinks, but so far, so good. Once again, at the abyss of giving up, I’m dealt a new hand of cards.
Not a bad day here, all in all, but make no mistake about it, I’m still super pissed at the husband.