Minimum rage

A big part of being a freelance copywriter involves the Hustle. Some dislike the hunt, I actually enjoy it.

As I've often discussed with other writers and art directors, you have two choices. You can work at an agency and deal with all the mishigas, the status meetings, the bureaucracy, the politics, the posturing, and the illusion of security.

Or you can go the mercenary route and navigate the slow periods, the uncertainty, and the rapid fire emergencies that freelancers are expected to extinguish.

You pick your poison.
I've chosen the latter.

These days, there is an emerging third option.
That is, going client side or in house.

This is where I like to play a little game.

You see, I'd be lying if I said I weren't sneaking a peak at these client side, sans ping pong table opportunities. And because the internet makes things so easy with just the click of a mouse, I'd also be lying if I said I hadn't thrown my furry Ushanka hat in the ring. I have. Mostly on a lark.

Though I might have seriously considered hanging up my freelancer cleats for  the Creative Director position at MedMen, the nation's fastest growing cannabis company (see what I did there.) Or the opportunity to be the Chief Creative Officer with the Los Angeles Lakers, that was an actual listing.

Neither company, it seems, was interested in hiring this grizzled 44 year old. And even if they had, they couldn't.

Why?
And this is where it gets laughable.
The money.
There is none.

Without getting into specific numbers, let's just say the high end of their salary range was half of what I was making at my last staff job. And that was fifteen years ago. When I was 29.

Granted there would have been some tangible incentives from the two organizations, either in the form of industrial grade sativa gummies or court side seats at the Staples Center with all the Keto-friendly Italian sausage I could eat.

But I'm sorry, apologies to Jerry McQuire, show me the scratch.

This is hardly exclusive to advertising. It's across the board.

If you were to ask me, and thankfully nobody has, it's this growing greed-fueled wage inequality, not Mexican gardeners, nannies and car washers, that will rip this country apart.

Creating the Haves.

The Have Nots.

And the Have Had Enoughs.