Category: Work

  • Freedom

    Recently I was offered a full time job with a company I like. The work would’ve been nothing difficult and it would’ve paid me more than I made in all of 2010 by about five thousand dollars. I turned it down.

    For nearly the whole of my professional life, I have worked as a freelancer. I’ve spent six years in an industry that often chews people up and spits them out. I’m getting to the age where one of three things happen:

    1- You accept the fact that you will always be a grunt and just work more to earn more.
    2- You get a full time job in another line of work and walk away with the many stories from your days as a freelancer.
    3- You move up, advance, or find some other position with a company that does not work your body as hard.

    Recently I spoke about how I now have to deal with the challenges of leading more for certain companies. In my industry, I’ve kind of made it. I believe I made quite a bit more this year than last year, though I’m still waiting on my multiple W-2s to confirm this.

    Taking this job would have been smart. It would have been guaranteed work with a set schedule. No surprises, no slow seasons. Just ten hours a day five days a week, 10-99 (no taxes taken out). But I didn’t.

    The reason why my life is so brilliant currently is the same reason why I couldn’t take that job: freedom.

    I choose my schedule. Granted it is dependent upon me finding work for the days in which I wish to get paid, but that comes down to hustling. When I want to take a day off, I just say I can’t work it. If my friends plan something and I get enough notice ahead of time, I will cancel a gig. I’ve canceled with every company I currently work for and they still call me back.

    Why? Because I’m good at what I do. I show up on time (if not early). I come with not only a degree, but the knowledge I’ve built up in my six years of experience. Six years of dealing with bullshit. Pushing through when all I want to do is sleep. Being a bleeding heart liberal black woman who still works well with misogynists and nepotists and racists and conservatives.

    They trust me enough to toss me keys, tell me the warehouses to visit, pick up their gear, and bring it back. They trust me enough to send me out with a truck full of equipment, a basic idea of what the client wants, a crew of 1-3 people, and belief in my ability to load in, watch over, and break down a show.

    With my kink life soaring, with my new found status of social butterfly, I could not accept that job. I already paid for multiple events. I already planned out parts of my year. I set goals. I know what I want for the next eleven months. A full time job was not it.

    Just last year I thought I was going to get a stable and secure position in an all together different industry. I submitted an application, along with an extensive resume that included my job history all the way back to college. I interviewed, twice. I went through drug testing. I thought I had it in the bag. Then came a curve ball, and it was over.

    And ever since, I’ve been so happy that it didn’t work out. In the allure of the stability, I forgot how much I love my freedom, love that I can lead the life I now have. Love that I can be me without hiding, without (too much) judgement. Love that my life is how I shape it, not fitting into a monotonous mold.

    So no full time stable job for me, at least not in 2012. 2013…? Let’s see how the next eleven months go.

  • Acceptance

    Tonight I had a panic attack.

    In my car, on my way to my gig, my heart raced; panic and dread and fear grappled through my body. But still, I kept driving. I’m nothing if not reliable, especially when it comes to work.

    I know, specifically, why I loathed going to my Load Out: PTSD. Now, before anyone gets pissed at that obvious case of self diagnosis, let me say right now I respect anyone who puts on a uniform and fights for our country. I’m not willing to, pacifist and bleeding heart liberal that I am. As such, I honor those who choose to do what I can and will not.

    Having said that, my reaction to what was going to be a simple, almost fun, gig is directly related to a horrible, tears worthy, event I experienced previously: namely the first gig I ever led, for the company I was about to go lead for again. What’s worse, I would be with the same circle of leads, and again I was elevated last minute by the same person above me. The situation was eerily similar, though the venue had changed.

    And there in laid the difference: ghetto vs high class.

    But, I digress. So, as I drove down 13th St, noting the five punch buggies on the way, but no joy derived from them, I allowed myself to sit in my fear, wash in my dread, and panic to my heart’s content. Once I got to the venue, with some time before I needed to go inside, I pulled out my phone and played on the Internet; this helped a little. I walked in, found my crew, and checked back in with my superior just before he fluttered away.

    Amazingly, in my goodbye to him, I reminded myself of an important fact: it’s just a Load Out. And with those simple words, I found my calm, my quiet, my woo-sa.

    I allowed my mind to sit in the space, see all around me, and accept that this night was my fate. There was no running away, no giving up. I was going to lead, and, no matter what, everything would be fine.

    If I broke every light, slit open every sandbag, and dropped all the truss from the Mezzanine, it would be okay, because, really, none of that was going to happen. However, if it did, then it did.

    I don’t think I’m explaining this well, but these words are all I have. I just stopped, accepted, and worked on. And to my great surprise, the gig went fine; I laughed and chuckled with some work friends, and am now I’m writing this post.

    This is not the first instance where I just took a breath and accepted my fate, whatever the next few hours had in store for me. In fact, it’s quite common for me at work. Tonight it just happened to be more powerful, more profound, because I went from horrible, to shitty, to ok in a matter of ten minutes.

    In this blogger’s humble opinion, that’s pretty fucking awesome.

  • Bad Day

    I had hoped my next post would be a wrap up of my Turkey Day Vaca (actual title of soon-to-be entry), but life has once again spoiled my plans.

    As of January 1st, or sooner if I so choose, my job position will be eliminated. That’s right folks: I’ve been laid off. The economy sucker punched me today; I am now a statistic.

    Of course my life hasn’t ended. I have money saved up to help cushion the hardship (thank God for the invention of the Emergency Fund), not to mention an SO helping to pay half the rent. All-in-all, things could be worse. Having said that, I know I’m going to spend a good amount of time in today’s therapy session (well scheduled, I know!) trying to allow myself to cry about it.

    I hope my next post here will be more fun than this one.

  • Nothing Too Important

    I’m writing this post mostly to get Dick Armey off the top of my post list. Still can’t stand that man, by the way.

    Last night didn’t suck as much as I thought it would. I, being not rich, accepted a gig to work 8pm to 7am for a company based out of New York. A sometimes coworker called me up, asking if I wanted to work, and I, being also stupid, said yes. He even managed to wrangle me into getting my SO to work, as well. In retrospect I’m glad he did, considering it’s easier to deal with annoyance and sleeplessness when you have someone to joke around with.

    The gig itself was whatevs. The people weren’t the best in terms of organizing all aspects, but they got the job done and acted respectfully to all. In my book, that goes a long way. Best of all, they let me go at 4am. Truth be told, I would have been happy to leave at 1am, and I’m not sweating the extra three hours not worked AT ALL. Leaving at 4am translated into me getting four hours of sleep and only being late to work by 15mins.

    Currently, I’m munching on mini rice cakes, happy that my Red Bull headache has gone away. Of course, my sleepiness has also come back. I don’t know if I’ll do Red Bull anymore. Today was my first experience with it, and it wasn’t the best. A coworker postulated it was the large amount of caffiene in the drink giving me the headache. Being as I don’t drink coffee, tea, or more than two sodas on any given occasion, I would have to agree.

    I am incredibly tired, but I keep focusing on the check coming in the mail. Funny what people will do for money; e. g. pimps, hoes, podiatrists, and personal assistants.

  • Photos from work yesterday

    We worked an event many hours away from home, but it was worth it. The views were awe inspiring. The setting, amazing. I would love to be wed here. I can’t afford it, but still…

    I most always love what people can do at these events: beautiful & fun.

    Now that I have a card reader and can actually use my camera for fun, expect more pictures, just cause.