Tuesday, September 18, 2007

But will they respect me in the morning?

Why does trying to snag freelance jobs feel so much like dating?

It starts with the attraction thing. A fascinating job offer. An attractive pay rate. A come-hither call-to-action.

My eyebrows raise, my pulse increases.

I'm hooked.

So I scramble, trying to make myself as comely a writing wench as I can.

I dress up my resume, spiff up my clips, create the most incredible cover letter east of the Mississippi. And to make sure my target hottie knows I'm serious, I add plenty of methods to make the hunt as easy as pie. My phone number. My cell number. My email address. My blog address. My snail mail address.

Then, I send off my little "call me, we'll do lunch" packet and wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Days pass. Flowers wilt on the windowsill. I rumple an embroidered handkerchief in my fingers. The candle burns down to a grotesquely-shaped blob.

Finally, the email comes.

It's from an automatic source. It starts off: "Dear Applicant".

My stomach plummets to my curled toes.


I read it thrice.

I dust myself off.

I find something intrinsically wrong with the job. It was truly dull. It would have taken me away from other projects. I would have become disenchanted with the client.

I tell myself it wasn't "meant to be".

I laugh.

But I never forget the one that got away.

Eventually, another call for submissions catches my eye... could this be... the one?


the individual voice said...

I'll respect you and I'll believe all the reasons it wasn't the right job for you and even add a few more. But I've been thinking about this whole selling yourself thing with blogging as well, and I'm getting tired of it. I guess I should blog about it.

SzélsőFa said...

seems a vicious circle for me...

but perhaps, I did not understand: are you looking for a second job?