From the monthly archives:

March 2008

Corporate Mentality: How Understanding It Can Help You

by Amy Derby on March 20, 2008

Lots of folks email me asking how to get corporate blogging jobs or writing gigs. The first thing I ask them is, “What is your definition of corporate?” Some people don’t know; they’ve never had to work in it. They think corporate writing jobs equal higher pay — and hey, who doesn’t want that? What they don’t understand is that working the corporate side of things pays more for good reason. These aren’t always the easiest people to work for.

Corporate Mentality

I like the Urban Dictionary’s definition: “large-scale practice of committee mentality,” with committee mentality definied as “the collective stupidity that results when a committee forms.” Confused? You should be. This is part of the plan, you see.

The Committees:

Corporate folks like to form committees. They like to branch the committees into as many subcommittees as possible. This is because they also like fancy titles, and everybody wants one. I once had to compose correspondence to someone called the assistant secretary of the attorney representing the ad hoc subcommittee. No one, including the woman herself, knew what her job was.

The Players:

Think of corporate folks like third grade dodgeball players. These are big nerds who don’t want to get picked last, so when they’re down to two teams and a few rejects, the rejects declare themselves their own captains and form new committees.

The Mistakes:

Part of this ranking and separating system, it seems, is due to the fact that they like to play the blame game. In the corporate world, there are always mistakes, but no one ever makes them. Fingers will be pointed, gossip will fly. The wrong person will be fired over it. But at the end of the day, no one ever really knows who did it, because they’re already onto the next emergency.

The Emergencies:

These can range from low ink toner to misdelivered mail, but they’re almost always unimportant. Getting worked up over little things gives a sense of urgency to a day otherwise only filled with real problems to be solved and difficult tasks to be accomplished. Corporate folks don’t like work. They secretly despise pantyhose and neckties, and they’d rather be golfing.

The Golf:

Sometimes they are golfing. Usually when you need them. A real crisis will occur, or there will be a question on which the completion of the project holds. Suddenly, that phone they used to take to the bathroom for conference calls will be turned off. That blackberry formerly tied to their fingers will have gone missing. The weight of the company will rest on your shoulders, and whatever you do will be wrong.

The Scapegoat:

You’ll always be wrong. For every committee head who loves your work and puts you in line for a big promotion, there will be another who wants you fired. Most simply won’t know you exist. Your name, even if you’re wearing a name tag, will escape them. Use this to your advantage.

The Truth:

The key to survival in the corporate food chain is being invisible. Do what you’re told, but don’t take it too seriously. Don’t work overtime unless you get it approved in writing from the person who signs your paycheck. Don’t expect a “job well done” or a “thank you.” This isn’t about you; it’s about them.

How Understanding This Can Help You

Of course, not every corporation operates under corporate mentality. You’ll know it when you see it. The trick is to recognize it before the revolving glass doors suck you in. Before you enter, take a few deep breaths and make sure you have a pencil. You’ll want to get a few things in writing.

The Objective:

What is your job here? You’ll want a clear definition, and they won’t want to give you one. This is because they don’t know. They might have an idea, or an outline, or a chart of some type. They probably have a far-fetched goal or a five-year plan. But getting from point A to point B will be the part they’ll want to pin on you. You’ll try to make a clear suggestion, and they’ll say, “We trust you as a professional. Do your thing.” If you fall for this, you’re setting yourself up.

The Plan:

These are people who want results and don’t care about the process… until you’ve done the job, and they decide they don’t like your way so much after all. It’s all wrong, and they’re full of suggestions and “you should have done this” statements based on hindsight. You can’t do your thing. You must do their thing. Make sure what you think is a good plan is what they will think is a good plan. Spell it out for them very clearly. “I will get from A to B by doing this, that, and the other.” Make sure they approve of every step, and get the approval in writing.

The Boss:

Know who is in charge of your project. Know whose directions to follow. This is important, because you’ll likely be about ten minutes into the project when suddenly your inbox and voicemail are flooded with conflicting instructions.

The Resources:

Know who you must consult with and how to reach them. Make sure it is understood (in writing) that your deadline can’t be reached without the cooperation of these other players. Be prepared that at any time the project may become a chase game of “check with accounting” and “coordinate with our graphic designer,” when really the accountant knows nothing about anything and the graphic designer is on holiday for the next month. The project comes to a full hault, because you can’t move forward without the accountant’s numbers or the graphic designer’s go-ahead. Embrace the hault, but make sure the boss knows you don’t take responsibility for it.

The End Result:

Be prepared to hate the end result. Be prepared that most of the committee might not like it much more than you do. The only opinion that matters is the boss’s. If you do what the guy in charge wants, and he’s happy, that’s all that matters. Be prepared that he might not be happy until you’ve tweaked or redone some or all of it. Be prepared to charge accordingly.

The Payment:

If you’re taking corporate gigs for the pretty pay checks, here’s a tip: know who cuts your check and what the payment policy is before you sign the contract. Invoicing the boss probably won’t get you anywhere. Sure, he could forward your invoice to accounting or payroll, but he won’t. It will be buried in his inbox and left to decompose. Make sure when you start a job that you ask the accountant or payroll person whether they need your tax information before they’ll issue your payment. This is standard procedure in most corporate offices, only no one will tell you about it. The accountant will think the boss told you and vice versa. If you want your money, take it upon yourself to know what you’ve got to do in order to get paid.

The Truth:

Some folks aren’t cut out for corporate work. If you’re one of them, know it. Find something else to do. Wasting other people’s time and giving yourself ulcers won’t benefit anyone.

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Hump Day Reading

by Amy Derby on March 19, 2008

I have a class and a quit smoking group downtown today, so most of my day is being spent on the commute. In my absence, feel free to immerse yourself in the loveliness of these fine bloggers:

John on 10 Reasons Freelancing is for Suckers.

Naomi on When Your Blogging Friends Are Liars.

Harry’s 13.2 Ways Not to Get Rich Online.

Jay on Disruptive Writing: Experimentation to Innovation.

Monika’s Use The Pareto Principle To Sack Annoying Clients.

Dave on Freelance Smackdown - Did It Blend?

Sharon on Taking Criticism: Are You A Dinosaur?

Lori on Screwing Up.

Katharine on A freelance writer’s biggest pet peeves.

Debra on Don’t Touch That Shredder!

Melissa’s Five Ways to Help Fight Illiteracy.

Skellie’s Free eBook! The Simple Web: A Philosophy for Getting What You Want.

Happy reading!

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Don’t Pick Your Nose In Public, and Other Manners Your Mother Should Have Taught You

by Amy Derby on March 19, 2008

From pointing out a job poster’s bad grammar to flaming people running contests, it seems the Freelance Ship is sinking to new lows. It’s to the point where I’m ashamed to call myself a freelancer in some circles, because I know I’ll get the looks that say, “We know your type. Stay far far away from us.”

We all make mistakes. We say something we think is funny, and it gets taken the wrong way. Our sarcasm bites us in the butt. What was meant as a helpful suggestion comes off as cocky, and we look like jerks. That’s not what I’m talking about.

What I’m talking about is writing to me to tell me my blog posts have typing and grammatical errors, and that I should hire you as a proofreader because you’ve “worked with a lot of people way worse off” than me. If you’d been nice, I might have considered you. I didn’t place an ad for a proofreader, but I’m always more than open-minded when a fellow freelancer offers advice or pitches services. However, calling me stupid isn’t a good way to make me want to hire you.

I’m talking about people who post ridiculously uncalled for comments on blogs. Don’t like an ad-poster’s rate? Don’t apply. Do we need to make a public flogging out of it? Don’t think the blogger is qualified to walk on two feet, let alone post about it? Read a different blog. There are millions to choose from. There is no need for trash talk and public insults.

I’m talking about responding to rejection letters with an obnoxious note calling the editor a dumbass, bragging that you will be the next Oprah and won’t everyone be sorry then.

I’m talking about picking your nose and flicking it across the interwebs, as though you find your bodily functions amusing and think the rest of us will too.

I’m talking about the kind of behavior that wouldn’t be acceptable if you were in a client’s office or a blogger’s living room.

I know kindergarten kids who have more manners than many of the freelancers I’ve come in contact with on the web. Maybe the false security blanket of anonymity on the internet breeds audacity; I don’t know.

What I do know is that you’re making yourselves, and the rest of us by association, look bad. Your insults aren’t putting an end to the drop in market rates. Your rants aren’t ridding the web of bad content. Your high-horse tactics aren’t convincing anyone to get that fab book of yours to the front of the production line. You’re just making yourself look like a spoiled toddler whose mommy hands him lollipops every time he throws a tantrum. In the real world, fits won’t get you candy.

Life is too short for pettiness. Our careers are too valuable to be ruined in a streak of blatant bad-assness.

Think before you type.

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Candling Eggs: a Metaphor for Choosing Clients and Working With Them

by Amy Derby on March 18, 2008

There is no such thing as a perfect client. Some will be a better fit than others — higher pay, better communicator, kinder nature. But none will be perfect.

“I used to candle eggs at his farm… You hold an egg up to the light of a candle and you look for imperfections. The first time I did it he told me to put all the eggs that were cracked or flawed into a bucket for the bakery. And he came back an hour later, and there were 300 eggs in the bakery bucket. He asked me what the hell I was doing. I’d found a flaw in every single one of them… You look closely enough, you’ll find that everything has a weak spot where it can break, sooner or later.” (Anthony Hopkins’ character in the movie Fracture)

If you hold any client to the candle, you’ll find flaws. The choice becomes deciding whether you’re willing to sell the egg anyway.

A Billion Eggs, One Basket

There is only so much time in the day. There are an infinite number of potential clients. We’ve got choices to make.

High Rates vs High Maintenance:

A common mistake is looking for high paying work without considering other factors. I’ve done it myself. But the highest pay rate might not necessarily be the best choice. If he’s picky, stubborn, can’t make up his mind, doesn’t respond to questions, then takes three months to pay your invoice, was he really worth that higher price? Personally, I’d rather take on two lower paying jobs for easier going, more straightforward folks who pay on time. Of course, high paying low-maintenance clients will always be my first choice, but I’m willing to compromise for the sake of my own mental health.

A Billion Flaws, One Basketcase

There are many kinds of clients, but for me there are basically two kinds: ones I want to work with and ones I don’t. I’m getting good at differentiating them in the dark.

Workable vs Disaster:

I used to avoid doing phone consultations, because it was easier to get everything in writing via email from the beginning. Now I’m leaning toward calls more, because it’s easier to spot a nutjob over the phone. I don’t blend well with certain types of people. I can work for neurotics with attention deficit disorder; I don’t do so well with passive-aggressive. Having a screening process that works is important, and every freelancer’s screen-o-meter will vary.

Smarter Basket, Happier Eggs

When I’m feeling out a potential client, I like to find those weak spots. That way I can use the places they’ll crack to my advantage. I become a better basket, anticipating the places I need to compensate for my client’s vulnerabilities.

Intelligence vs Ignorance:

Sometimes a client’s faults and shortcomings will make for your best business. Clients who don’t understand blogging, know nothing about SEO and don’t know what social media is will usually stand out of my way and let me do my thing. All they care about is the results; they don’t care how I get them. Clients who know a little about blogging or SEO etc., will often want to dictate what they think will work, then blame me for not getting the right results based on their faulty methods. Some clients are clueless but easily educated; they want to learn, and they take right to it. Others prefer to remain ignorant. While I can work with both types, I like to know where I stand in either case. This helps me better allocate my time and determine my rates, which vary greatly per project based hugely on this factor.

How do you take your eggs?

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Recovering Corporate American? Consider AA

by Amy Derby on March 17, 2008

Can the AA recovery program philosophy be applied to quitting the 9-5 life and succeeding as a freelancer? I think so. Only here, you can drink.

Every Alcoholics Anonymous meeting begins with the serenity prayer:
“God, grant us the serenity
to accept the things we cannot change,
courage to change the things we can,
and wisdom to know the difference.”

If you’re new to freelancing and haven’t had a really annoying client yet, keep the above prayer in mind for when you get one. Repeat it aloud to yourself until it sinks in. Then repeat it a few more times. It honestly works, even if your higher-power is a door knob.

The serenity prayer is followed by a reading of How It Works. While certainly not all of it applies, I’m intrigued by the many parts that do. It begins:

“Rarely have we seen a person fail who has thoroughly followed our path. Those who do not recover are people who cannot or will not completely give themselves to this simple program, usually men and women who are constitutionally incapable of being honest with themselves.”

Of course, there is more than one right way to jump off the day-job ship and build your own freelance tugboat. But I’ve met freelancers who fail. They want to escape the cubicle, but they don’t want to really look at themselves and assess their abilities, improve their skills, put in the hard work necessary for success. They’re incapable of being honest with themselves, or choose not to be.

“If you have decided you want what we have and are willing to go to any length to get it, you are ready to take certain steps. At some of these, we balked. We thought we could find an easier, softer way. But we could not.”

Failures want someone to throw them a life-raft; they’re not up for saving their own lives.

“Some of us have tried to hold onto our old ideas and the result was nil until we let go absolutely.”

What worked at the corporate office won’t necessarily work at the home office. As a freelancer, letting go of those old “employee” ideas is crucial to making it on your own.

“Half measures availed us nothing. We stood at the turning point.”

The minute we tell the boss to shove it and walk out that door, we’re entering a new life. Half-assed efforts won’t cut it in the freelance world. Not if you’ve got bills to pay.

Although the full chapter of How It Works isn’t read at the meetings (it’s lengthy), my favorite parts comes closely after the reading ends:

“Each person is like an actor who wants to run the whole show; is forever trying to arrange the the lights, the ballet, the scenery and the rest of the players in his own way… Is he not a victim of the delusion that he can wrest satisfaction and happiness out of this world only if he manages well? … Driven by a hundred forms of fear, self-delusion, self-seeking, and self-pity, we step on the toes of our fellows and they retaliate… So our troubles, we think, are basically of our own making.”

How many blogs and forums do you visit where you watch freelancers fight with each other, step on each other’s toes, turn a friendly debate into a mudslinging? How many times have you balked about rates? Felt sorry for yourself over rejection or criticism and wanted to give up? Argued with clients because you want to run the show? Made things personal that weren’t?

We all do these things, because we’re human, but isn’t it a waste? We’re taking time away from our own work, creative energy away from our own personal projects. All because we want to be right, and when we’re wrong we want to have someone else to blame our failures on.

When I’m at an AA meeting, I see more than just alcoholics. I see all of us.

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