When you're a freelancer, as I have been for the last 16 years, those are perhaps the three sweetest words in the advertising industry. Especially now during these pandemic times when the advertising boat seems to be taking on water.
Oh who are we kidding, the whole world is taking on water.
Mind you, a freelance extension isn't always a bowl of ripe $13.99/lbs. cherries. I've freelanced at agencies and shops in the past when I was counting down the days until it was over. Let's face it there are lots of assnuggets in this business.
And they know who they are. Particularly if they've been following this blog.
If they don't know who they are, it's because they're not reading the room or they're too busy counting their money and don't give a hamster's hind about the people who work for them and put food in the refrigerators of their second homes or yachts.
But the people I'm working for now are not like that. I genuinely like them. And that's something. If you've been a reader for any time, even a week, you know I can be quite the misanthrope.
And though I'm making a fraction of what I formerly earned, I really don't care. Because the job entails coming up with funny ideas and sharing lots of laughs with significantly younger people. At 44, I would dare suggest I'm the oldest guy working for the company. And being the most juvenile man on the planet, I am in many ways, the youngest.
In any case, it's good to be working steadily. Particularly since my wife has been hocking me to install a fire pit in the backyard. Which will require trenching up the lawn. As well as the construction of a raised deck, because you can't just plunk a pit in the middle of the grass, light up a Duraflame log and call it a day. And on that deck you're gonna need some chairs, sturdy, comfortable, durable outdoor chairs whose price tag will surely induce a small heart attack.
"Why a fire pit?" I ask.
"So we can entertain," she replies.
What is the point of having people over, I mull over silently in my head. Can't we just set up a zoom meeting? Entertaining people is so much work. It means deep cleaning the house. The assembling of Martha Stewart-like appetizer trays. Passing a wardrobe inspection. The promise to curb my bourbon consumption. Showering. And shaving.
(Sidenote: I have recently discovered the joy of a proper skincare regimen and find myself exfoliating, followed by a precision shave with a creamy lather, followed by an intensely satisfying application of a post shave skin moisturizer. Damn I can't believe it took me this long to find out about all this.)
In summary:
1. I have a long term extension on my job, thrilled.
2. We're getting a firepit, people are coming over, they'll eat up all my good cheese, not so thrilled.
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