I do not want to talk about the business of freelancing, because it is boring to me. I don’t like using new payment systems or filling out forms or creating invoices or chasing payments or getting my head round new “payment terms” that just seem like a thrilling way for the company to fuck me. I do all of these very boring things because I like my job, and I like having the freedom to do it in whatever way I please without answering to anyone.
I like writing. I enjoy editing. I love interviewing. I like working with editors, especially ones who challenge me and make me look at my work differently. I like being able to work with record labels, magazines, agencies, movie studios–anyone I choose that chooses to work with me. I love it when that process is easy, when I am offered a fair amount of money that I accept. I love it even more when receiving that money is not only straightforward, but fast.
What is fast? Well, ideally not 30 days. 30 days is already a pisstake, by the way. When I tell my nail tech or hairdresser or physiotherapist that I wait 30 days at least to be paid from the moment the work is done, they laugh. “I would never let you leave here without paying. I’d hold you hostage.”
So why is it tolerated in our industry? I do not know, but I can just about tolerate those 30 day terms when they mean 30 days. It seems, though, as if everyone has been inventing new, more humiliating ways to get the money we need for luxurious things like rent and food and medication. One client pays at the end of the month after the month you invoice in, and then the money takes a few days to clear. An invoice sent on November 3rd would be paid around January 2nd. Another one changed from “at the end of this month” to “30 days” to “the nearest payment run, of which we only have two, after the 30 day mark”. Others say 30 days but it’s more like 41, or 60, or never. Very rarely do I get paid without a follow-up.
For a while, I was working very regularly for a company who paid well, often, and fast. I got pretty used to being treated professionally, and I felt proud of myself for getting to a point in my career where I didn’t have to get on my knees and beg for money I was owed. For work I had done. I know it isn’t on me–it’s on the company, and the accounts teams, and whoever implements these “systems”. But it’s me who has to be embarrassed, and siphoning money from my savings, and borrowing it from my husband.
Recently, I took a trial shift at a bar. I haven’t worked in a bar in eight years, and I am more disabled and aware of my needs than I was then, but what I need more than anything right now is consistency. To be paid for the work I do. Worrying about being paid on time is worse for my health than lugging kegs around ever was. I never had anyone fuck me over and make me wait a week or even ask for my wages when I worked in a bar. It seemed the fastest route to a crumb of dignity and security. I didn’t get the job.
I am freelance because I’m disabled. I have complicated health needs. I am autistic. I spend more time in a hospital or a doctor’s office or the gym than at my desk, and the work I do needs to make that possible. But all of this shit–the shame, the rejection, the chasing payment–is making even that impossible. I would love to have a job. I would love to work regularly, to be paid regularly, to find someone to trust me to do my job while allowing me the time I need to take care of my health.
I worry about talking about these things, because I don’t want to annoy anyone that would otherwise work with me. But I need to be paid for my hard work! I am very professional. I am great at holding up my end of the bargain, and you need to be too. If you want to give me some work and you want to pay me well and on time, I am very free at the moment and hoping to take on as much as I can before Christmas. I’m reliable, fast, and good at my job. I love my job.
But not as much as I hate struggling to pay my bills.
I feel your pain....it must be awful to have to be dependent on the whims of others.
Feel this deeply. It's such bullshit and it feels like it's getting worse and worse. ❤️