Freelancing

I have been freelancing since 1994. You'd think after all that time I would be good at it.

But mostly I have worked for only a few select companies, with odd jobs thrown in for good measure. Those jobs have included editing, acting as a glorified secretary for an old man (in his 80s) who wanted to write a World War II textbook, newspaper writing, magazine writing, substitute teaching, post-closer for a real estate attorney, and tutoring (which only lasted a month, I am so not a tutor).

Freelancing for me has been a one-woman adventure. I am the writer, the purchaser of equipment, the cleaning lady, the accountant, the receptionist - everything. It all rests on my graying head.

Of course it is this way for most sole proprietors, so I am not alone. It would be nice if, at some point, I made such vast amounts of money that I could afford an assistant, especially for the filing, but I don't see that in my future. Most of the time I don't mind doing everything. I have my own little system worked out, I can find my paperwork, and things flow smoothly.

Until, that is, I have to be the Bill Collector.

Occasionally I work for someone who deems it okay to pay me late, or not at all. This becomes a major issue with me, particularly if it is a goodly sum of money. And particularly at this time of year, when I need my cash.

As it is, I am today the Bill Collector and suffice it to say, I don't like it much. This is the part of being a sole proprietor that I truly dislike. I am still working for this particular client and I don't want to lose the business (not yet, anyway), so I tread lightly. But I think treading lightly allows me to be abused.

I don't like confrontation so it is hard for me to say "pay up". And then of course the only "or else" I have is to say I won't work for them anymore. And they don't really care because, although I do wonderful, even award-winning work, for them, I am completely replaceable.

I know this, so I tip-toe around the payment issue.

Tip-toe.

Tip-toe.

Even though I am, technically, a free spirit doing my own thing, I am just as much caged as the worker in the cubicle who answers "yes sir" to the big man. The big man always gets his way, I think.

Tip-toe.

Tip-toe.

(The bird in the picture is not in a cage; it is behind a roll of fence. It is much freer to fly than I will ever be.)