QUARANTINE LIFE: FRIDAY THOUGHTS

A concerned creative person once told me, "All that "professional" means, is being paid for what you do. You'd better know the worth of what you do, so that you don't get shortchanged---and know when to say, "NO" and be okay about it."

People want their money in full, and on time for the work they do.

There's no room for haggling or negotiating.

There's a budget within which their services are not an afterthought.

Why, then, is there such a problem with mindfully budgeting for, and fairly compensating creatives? You know. The people who supposedly don't have a "real" job, like:

musicians,

singers,

visual artists,

dancers,

poets, and the like.

Why is their work always deemed voluntary?

Why is their work always "ministry"?

Why is their work something they should be glad and grateful to do for nothing, at a moment's notice, and at their own expense?

Why is the work they do always sought out, but never deemed worth it when it's time to discuss money?

Do people really think that creatives exist on air, and the sheer love of what they do, alone?

Do they think creatives are all independently wealthy and can afford to work for free?

Is that it?

People pay handsomely for mediocrity all the time, either because:

they're stubborn,

can't afford what they really want,

don't know any better,

didn't research available options,

are in a bind,

were fooled,

or didn't bother to vet what they were getting.

What people often conflate and confuse with professionalism, is a cooperative attitude and excellent skill.

Amateurs demonstrate that.

Hobbyists do, too.

It's essentially good home-training that people often describe when they regard someone as "professional".

If you "act right" on the job,

are agreeable,

know your stuff,

perfect whatever the task is the first time,

don't need to be coddled or tutored,

show up on time,

don't waste time or resources,

are a team player,

and don't bring drama, then you're crowned "professional".

Perhaps your mama and daddy taught you all of that.

What needs to be taught in many creative work places, and to creative people, is that slavery is, and always has been bad.

Your time is worth something.

What also needs teaching and reinforcing, is the habit of paying people fairly, in full, and on time for the work that they do. There seems to be an allergy or aversion to that.

Professionalism isn't always rewarded in professional ways.

"We can't pay you, but you can stay for the banquet and get a plate" implies that your work is equivalent, or reduced to the cost of whatever is on the menu, and assumes you hadn't planned to eat that day. (Banquet food, by the way, has never paid a car note, or electric bill, yet).

What is actually meant by "professionalism"; what is noted, admired, and expected, is competence, attentiveness, consistency, integrity, discipline, and even obedience.

The test of how much all of that is really valued, however, comes when it's time to set a rate, make an offer, or write that check.

Unfortunately, some creative work situations are all business, until the job is done.

That's when communication and goodwill often fall apart.

There are times when it is prudent to sow, or help. Perhaps you've been led to do so. Unless you've agreed to volunteer, however, the best time to discuss compensation, is before a finger is lifted; before you leave home, before you deliver.

Afterward, people tend to develop amnesia and severe confusion about how "professional" the task was.

Again, volunteers and hobbyists behave in a business-like manner, and churn out "professional" level services and products all the time--and don't expect to be paid, but they often are given a token out of sheer appreciation for the work they do.

Professionals are often repeatedly expected to settle for "exposure" as if it can be exchanged for legal tender, goods, or services.

It's true, networking can open doors to other, more financially lucrative opportunities. Just be careful that you're not becoming the go-to person when everybody is expecting something for nothing.

If only the compensation for the professionalism that is praised, expected, and demanded wasn't so amateur-ish, and could catch up with the services so many provide, then we could see a greater distinction between the pro, and the volunteer or hobbyist.

Too often, though, the "professional" label is mere flattery.

It's used to gaslight skilled people into being okay with working for little or nothing, doing favors, and constantly paying to play.

Compliments are nice, but they may as well be kept if compensation remains non-existent, stagnant, elusive, or woefully insulting.

Creatives want to pay their bills, too.