I got a job today. Don’t worry, it’s only temporary. It seems my current freelance gig, the last one I’ll ever have before my life as Mr. Bigshot Writer takes off (fingers crossed), had to go corporate for tax reasons (theirs, not mine). So I agreed to be an employee for the first time in . . . well, a long time. I’ve been a freelance writer/designer/animator for so long I couldn’t even remember the last time I actually had a “real” job. Turns out it was 1997. Everything since then has been contract work, freelance, and spec (as in, I write and pray somebody pays me for it . . . eventually).
It’s not the perfect system—freelance, I mean. There are quarterly taxes and no 401k. You can get health insurance, but since you-know-who is the boss, guess who foots the bill? Worst of all the break room is sadly devoid of office gossip (the pug likes to hoard her secrets). But I also never have to get notarized to prove to myself that I was born in the United States, so there’s that.
The job should be done in September, just in time to start seriously flogging Portlandtown. Until then I will try to be the model employee. Wish me luck, my zombies.