I’m back in the saddle again or, um, out of it. I can’t keep track anymore. My full-time freelance assignment ended this past Friday, and I’m unemployed again. Or am I still self-employed but without a full-time project? Is there a difference? Does it really matter? Can I go on asking questions like the annoying five-year-old who lived up the block from me when I was a kid? Do you really want me to answer that question? Or that one? Or that one?
It feels like I fell off the proverbial horse, which then kicked me as it trotted away. So let’s go with “out of it,” a phrase that seems to fit like a lasso around my neck. The current job market is similar to the Wild West… catch as catch can, every person for themselves. And sporadic unemployment might be the new reality. Maybe the only solution is to quit looking for full-time work and devote my life to mastering
John is a former outlaw in the early 20th Century Mexican boarder region whose family is held hostage by the government. To secure their freedom, he must act as a bounty hunter and bring the members of his former gang to justice. And he must kick lots of ass.
I like to wear black sometimes, and stole a candy bar from a 7-11 when I was 14. That’s right, straight up gansta, yo. Jackson Heights feels like it borders on the third world. Wifey is a hostage of government largess, paying taxes to avoid charges of tax evasion and maintain her freedom from the tax-collecting man who wants to give her cheaper healthcare and a couple dollars for retirement. The nerve! I hunt for a job, so that she may one day have a little more freedom from the tyranny of the working life. And I, like John Marston, kick lots of ass.
We are brothers from another mother, and another time and dimension. We even look alike, in a ruggedly handsome, don’t-take-no-guff sort of way. Since our experiences and circumstances are so similar, maybe his approach to life could help me in re-unemployment.
Whenever John—himself forced into freelancing by the government—finds himself unemployed, he seeks out potential employers in need of his services. They might be a town sheriff looking to capture some criminals, or a local rancher who needs help rustling some cattle. John always gets hired, and he always gets paid. If anyone or anything gets in his way, he shoots them. The human bodies he then loots; the animal bodies he skins. And the proceeds he spends on supplies or new houses, or gambles away.
My situation is basically the same, albeit a tad more nuanced. The projects that kept me off the streets and in the black for much of 2010 are over. More work could be pending, should the client sign on and the company ask me back. Neither is guaranteed. Some other freelance work is coming, theoretically, and two more inquiries came through this week. What materializes and how much I get paid remain to be seen. But to maximize my chances, I need to remain forceful and aggressively follow up on any opportunities. When I get work, I need to be resourceful in handling it. Then again, maybe the lesson here is to spend more time at the horse track.
As John succeeds, he gets hired for increasingly challenging and better-paying projects. Lassoing wild horses leads to collaborative missions with gravediggers and snake oil salesmen. His freelance projects even take him south of the border to Mexico, to rescue senoritas or hunt down the perfect burrito or something. I’m not that far into the game yet, so I don’t know exactly what happens. John eventually nabs the villains and gets his family back, reaching his larger goal. Then zombies come and ruin it all again. You’ll have to ask wifey—video game player extraordinaire—about the specifics.
Most of my freelance projects only use some of my skills. And that’s fine. I still do the best I can. A job well done sometimes leads to more and better work. But sometimes it just leads to a paycheck. One day I’ll have the perfect job, or at least one that draws on more of my skills. One day I’ll get paid like the marketing gangster I am. But today—two years and three months after losing my last full-time job—isn’t that day. Today I’m just trying to get my foot back in the stirrup before the horse rides away.