My post-graduate life has been, for all intents and purposes, exceptionally corporate. HR departments, high heels, repurposed computers and repurposed personal mission statements.
And in the search for the next phase, the truly freelance one, the one with no healthcare, the one where the paychecks can run as high as $500 for a month’s work, I’m privy to an entirely new world, one where kids blast music, putting out the cool magazines, in their sneakers, doodling on walls, and I have to keep to myself the following two thoughts:
1. How the hell do I get you to like me enough to hire me?
2. Where are the adults, do they know what you’re doing at so-called work, and please tell me they’re never coming back?
So, the search continues. I think I give a good first impression, but after that it’s all downhill. Off to work on an edit test for a job which pays less than half of what I made last year. Starving. Artist. Indeed.
I’ll leave you with a quote-of-the-morning for a fun job I just got where I won’t be paid in money per se, but instead in their drawing an illustration of me. Isn’t that payment enough, to become a cartoon? I’ll be creating a ridiculous persona who reviews the finest things the city has to offer (like an upcoming event where really rich older women are paired with poor but incredibly hot younger men—yes this is real).
Dude : So…we’re thinking pill popping, disordered eating, blowing lines of Xanax, social climbing, serial dating, well-bred and ill-behaved?
Me: Hmm. That sounds about right.
And in the search for the next phase, the truly freelance one, the one with no healthcare, the one where the paychecks can run as high as $500 for a month’s work, I’m privy to an entirely new world, one where kids blast music, putting out the cool magazines, in their sneakers, doodling on walls, and I have to keep to myself the following two thoughts:
1. How the hell do I get you to like me enough to hire me?
2. Where are the adults, do they know what you’re doing at so-called work, and please tell me they’re never coming back?
So, the search continues. I think I give a good first impression, but after that it’s all downhill. Off to work on an edit test for a job which pays less than half of what I made last year. Starving. Artist. Indeed.
I’ll leave you with a quote-of-the-morning for a fun job I just got where I won’t be paid in money per se, but instead in their drawing an illustration of me. Isn’t that payment enough, to become a cartoon? I’ll be creating a ridiculous persona who reviews the finest things the city has to offer (like an upcoming event where really rich older women are paired with poor but incredibly hot younger men—yes this is real).
Dude : So…we’re thinking pill popping, disordered eating, blowing lines of Xanax, social climbing, serial dating, well-bred and ill-behaved?
Me: Hmm. That sounds about right.
4 comments:
What is this writing gig and please please link it.
Check Craigslist every. single. day. You'll find something soon.
Hell, the blog I work for is looking for writers. We pay barely nothing, but at least it's $$.
http://newyork.craigslist.org/mnh/wrg/536690618.html
Ahaha, I got invited to that sugar mama thing. So ridiculous. I was going to apply with a fake name just for laughs and so I'd have something to blog about, but I decided not to. Would've been funny, though.
"Blowing lines of Xanax"... jeez, am I behind the times. I just crush mine up with a glass of pinot noir like most respectable folks (before I got knocked up, of course).
Hope you link to your new writing venture, sounds like a blast.
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