9 months of working for myself

Today marks the ninth month since ditching office life and setting up on my own. Along the way, my business survived some tense moments, like the looming uncertainty of Brexit which hovered over us like a fart in an elevator. January 2020 will forever be cemented in my brain as Dry January, a desert of a market, with the ghosts of clients floating past like tumble weed. As Parliament reluctantly pushed though the dreaded deal, the world didn’t end and things got a little better. My little business bounced and enjoyed three glorious weeks of good times. Then sadly, the party ended when everything came to a grinding and traumatic halt with the impending coronavirus pandemic. So all in all, not the smoothest environment. There’s no denying it, it’s been a tough ride for everyone. But now more than ever, I’m grateful that my pay cheque and career trajectory are in my own hands, and not somebody else’s. In finance, we bang on a lot about diversification. That’s how I feel in business too. It’s a tense period but I'm working for different companies, rather than just one, which gives me some small sense of security in a recession. 

There have been more direct challenges as well. Mostly clients not paying. I never imagined how many people would try to get away with it. It’s not even their money, but they’ll put you in a position where you need to chase them like a f*cking stalker for weeks on end, just to get what you’re owed. These bullsh*t policies some small businesses have where they say, “oh we never pay until at least the third reminder”. I mean, how small do your parts need to be to have that kind of attitude? Somewhere between a cashew and a kidney bean. This week I had to file a legal case, because a client commissioned work, used it and decided to never pay. Crazy right? I mean, who does that? Turns out, loads of people. Not just the shady characters either, the slimy old suits and Fagins of the world. Swanky lawyers in gleaming offices will commission lofty work, and after days of research and writing, you’ll submit it and never hear from them again. Hedge fund managers will call up, promising the world and then ghost you forevermore. Thanks for that.

Happily, over the past nine months, I’ve also experienced unbelievable compassion and kindness too. One client gave me an advance of ￡4,000 this month because they knew that I was having a tough time collecting invoices. I could’ve cried. They didn’t want flowers or praises; it was just a matter of trust and I love them for that. Another new client will call out of the blue, love the work, pay straight away and ask for more. Sometimes magazines reach out and ask me to write for them, because they spotted an article and enjoyed my writing. That’s the most wonderful feeling. When people value your work so much that they want your voice, your quirks, your sense of humour mashed up in their beautiful glossy pages. When I worked in an office, that was exactly what I was paid to try and hide. I’ve always been viewed as a bit too creative for corporate offices, someone who needs to push down strong opinions and ideas. Now I can flaunt it to my crowds of niche fintech readers like some kind of literary streaker and it’s amazing.  

So many of my clients are kind, funny, salt of the earth people, who you’d bend over backwards to work for. My first ever client, who took a bit of a chance on me, stuck by my side for six months through every learning curve and bumpy moment. I’ll forever reserve a piece of my heart and gratitude for them, for getting me started and giving it a go. I even have a bottle of champagne from them waiting in the kitchen, which I’m going to pop on my birthday next week. Since starting this journey, I’ve met some of the best people I’ll ever meet. That’s another thing about setting up on your own, you don’t have the same stale office, you get loads of different workplaces. It's lush. A little bit of everyone, and my God, you learn so much.

There are other miscellaneous challenges which are within me personally. It’s not always easy. The mental attitude you need to keep running at full speed can be f*cking exhausting. To put every single thing you’ve got, every last bit of fight and energy into a single headline. To fire up every fibre within you when writing about a drab subject like pensions or insurance, it takes work. You need to burst forth with passion and drive, no matter the topic, that's what the role is. Not every pitch is successful, but you fight for each and every one like your life depends on it. Working from home – as many of us are now experiencing – can be tough as f*ck when you’re alone, stressed and nobody is paying you. I go into my little office telling myself that I’m going to have the mental strength of Yoda and re-emerge looking like him instead. 

On top of that, there’s websites to maintain, blogs to write, accounting stuff which is often late, clients to chase, meetings to attend... It’s every job rolled into one massive beast. But I love it and I wouldn’t change a thing. You have to pick your battles. I would rather hunt down a non-paying client to the gates of hell than sit in a fusty office chair waiting for 5.30pm.

What I love most of all is the process of doing work. I’m a writer and I like writing. It’s that simple. Since I’ve worked for myself, I’ve seen how this is missing in so many companies. There are so many meetings, approvals, processes and other bullsh*t which stops work happening or slows it down. I’m convinced that daddy issues are at the heart of office life. People will do stupid things just to make their boss like them, working insomniac hours for a pay cheque which is just a teeny tiny fraction of the company turnover. It’s crazy, really. Weirder still, it's encouraged and even rewarded in some corporate worlds. I see my wonderful friends getting frustrated about their title … but why? It’s so stupid. Sure, stress about the salary. But the title? What’s this obsession with hierarchy in office life and what about actually doing some work, instead of talking about it?  

I feel liberated. It’s refreshing. I’ll be f*cked if I ever let someone walk all over me again, checking my emails or monitoring how much I chat to others. Boll*cks to the "25 days vacation" rule and office politics by the water fountain.

I am my own boss. I do my own thing. It feels fantastic. Best nine months of my life.