So I haven't blogged here since July. Shame on me. But time flies when you're having fun.
And having fun I have had. I've taken on a lot more cat sitting work, and boy, let me tell you, it's the most stress-free role I've ever had.
Okay, so there's a lot of driving around, which, depending on the time of day, isn't exactly stress-free, especially when you encounter drivers who seem to have picked their driver's licence out of a cereal packet. But my feline clients for the most part are a joy.
In the last few months I've only come close to being attacked once. By a cat I'll call Sybil. In fact I'll call her Syko Sybil. (Which looks better on paper than Psycho Sybil.) Here's a cat with personality plus. One personality is nice and normal. The other, the evil twin side, can take the lead in a second. Snarls, growls, hisses and threats. For no particular reason. She's healthy, before you ask. She gets regularly checked by the vet, but she's a rescue cat and who knows what went on in her life before her owner took her home and gave her unconditional love (and probably got scratched and bitten a lot since then).
Some cats are ambivalent. "Oh, you've come to feed me. Good. Feed me and I'll bugger off and sleep somewhere. Cheers." They eat, ignore you patting them and encouraging them to come for a cuddle, and stalk off. Cats will be cats.
Some are love bunnies, and it's these I enjoy the most. They miss their humans and want contact. Pats, strokes, cuddles, brushing. I have heard purrs in every key, and been climbed on and head butted by dozens of joyful furbabies who enjoy my company as much as I enjoy theirs.
The most rewarding in the last few months has been a pair of Sphynx brothers. I'll call them Da Boyz. I've never really been excited by the idea of a basically hairless cat. Photos show them wrinkled and often, it seems, with a frown on their face. I thought touching them would be weird. It is, in a nice kind of way. They are covered in peach fuzz. Their feet, bony and prehensile, are strangely enchanting. They are agile and very smart; think of a cat who thinks it's a monkey. Their tails are like whips; thin and tapered, and they curl them up elegantly against their flanks when they sit. Waiting for their food, standing up and yelling at me, their tails quiver expectantly.
I've minded Da Boyz twice. The first time was only for a few days and they were keen to tell me they wanted food, and didn't mind the odd pat. But no cuddles thanks. Feed us, clean up after us and we'll watch you and get a bit closer each day.
This month I've had them again, for two and a half weeks on and off. And things have changed between us. Firstly Smaller Boy decided he'd hop up on my knee for a cuddle after food, and he did, nestling his very warm body against mine and purring furiously. His bigger brother watched from on top of a cupboard for a couple of days and then decided it was his turn.
Well. Big Brother has been the most affectionate cat I've ever minded. After feeding (and settling himself for a pee on the toilet - they are both trained to pee over a human loo) he would run to the sofa and jump up, yelling at me to get my butt over there too. Then he'd settle on my knee, firstly kneading me, then marking me by rubbing his head all over the front of my clothing. I'll never wear a white t-shirt to his place again! He would gently touch my cheeks with a soft paw, and lie in my arms like a baby, purring furiously and gazing lovingly into my eyes.
I found I was really looking forward to visiting Da Boyz each day as they were so engaging and loving. After a bit you don't miss the fur; you just cuddle the warm feline body and get smooched and adored in return.
Their owner is a lovely person too; I contact all owners with updates and pics daily, and some respond at length and others don't. Da Boyz's owner is as outgoing and delightful as the cats.
Then there's Chubby Girl The Food Obsessed, who has to have her food measured out in timer bowls which go off at intervals so she doesn't binge eat. She's a butterball and on a strict diet but somehow doesn't seem to lose weight. She's quite affectionate and playful. Her friend Timid Tom on the other hand hides in a cupboard and has his food in a special bowl than will only open to the chip embedded in his collar so Chubby Girl can't steal it. My role with him is to leave the food out and just check he's okay; Chubby likes a brushing and for me to throw balls for her, or some kibble, so she gets exercise by chasing it, preferably up the stairs.
I have, for my sins, agreed to work for four hours on Christmas Day doing cat sitting. The owner of the cat sitting biz has mobility issues and can't handle places with stairs, whereas I look on stairs as fitness aids. My husband G is ok with this, as we're having seafood for lunch rather than the whole baked turkey thing, but it's going to feel weird heading out to work on the country's Big Day Off. But if I don't feed these little sweeties, who will? It's not as if cats celebrate Christmas.
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 31, 2017
Wednesday, June 7, 2017
Just when I was having a peaceful day - the hell of broken websites
It's raining hard here today. A perfect day to be inside. Wednesdays are a bit of a day off for me as my colleague at my main client's workplaces has the day off, so doesn't chase me with emails and phone calls.
I decided I would devote this afternoon to self-improvement and relaxation.
I attempted a twenty minute yoga session. I say attempted because every time I did the Downward Dog our puppy raced up and licked my nose. I should, on reflection, have shut her in the kitchen but her whimpering would have been too distracting.
After that I lit a candle and did a twenty minute guided meditation, and felt peace flowing through me. I was relaxed, so beautifully relaxed.
Then I made the mistake of checking my email. Another client had written saying she wanted a change on her website, which is one where people can buy tickets for a charity sleepout. She wanted an extra, cheaper, ticket for school students. I checked the back end of the website. Looked easy.
My second mistake was updating the core software and all the plugins including the event plugin. Suddenly there were no tickets any more - none on the front end and none on the back!
All my peacefulness vanished. I had a headache almost instantly.
Of all the clients, it had to be her site. I swear, this woman is a jinx. She has two websites and every time I touch them they misbehave. Something goes wrong. Now these are simple WordPress sites. There shouldn't be the issues I have with them; when I've fixed one thing another pops up. I don't have any other clients with the problems she has.
So I've given up and posted a question on a support forum for the event software. I've decided if it's all too hard I'm going to pay a contractor to fix it and bill my client for their time. I am OVER fixing websites, I find it all too stressful these days.
I'm now going to find a quiet corner and try and meditate again. I feel sick to my stomach with this website issue. If only I could afford to retire and give this website bullsh*t up!
I decided I would devote this afternoon to self-improvement and relaxation.
I attempted a twenty minute yoga session. I say attempted because every time I did the Downward Dog our puppy raced up and licked my nose. I should, on reflection, have shut her in the kitchen but her whimpering would have been too distracting.
After that I lit a candle and did a twenty minute guided meditation, and felt peace flowing through me. I was relaxed, so beautifully relaxed.
Then I made the mistake of checking my email. Another client had written saying she wanted a change on her website, which is one where people can buy tickets for a charity sleepout. She wanted an extra, cheaper, ticket for school students. I checked the back end of the website. Looked easy.
My second mistake was updating the core software and all the plugins including the event plugin. Suddenly there were no tickets any more - none on the front end and none on the back!
All my peacefulness vanished. I had a headache almost instantly.
Of all the clients, it had to be her site. I swear, this woman is a jinx. She has two websites and every time I touch them they misbehave. Something goes wrong. Now these are simple WordPress sites. There shouldn't be the issues I have with them; when I've fixed one thing another pops up. I don't have any other clients with the problems she has.
So I've given up and posted a question on a support forum for the event software. I've decided if it's all too hard I'm going to pay a contractor to fix it and bill my client for their time. I am OVER fixing websites, I find it all too stressful these days.
I'm now going to find a quiet corner and try and meditate again. I feel sick to my stomach with this website issue. If only I could afford to retire and give this website bullsh*t up!
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
New Year's Resolution: Grow Some Balls
If there's a problem client roaming around looking for a contractor they are sure to find me. It's as if I have a sign on my back: Use Me And Don't Pay Me.
After giving up hope of getting any money out of The Scarlet Pimpernel - a cunning, conniving cow who racked up thousands of dollars of web and design work with me and didn't pay me, then proceeded to do the same to at least two others - I now have another client who wants me to do work urgently but doesn't have the money to pay.
A friend of mine nicknamed him Mr Twat. I call him Fer-ANK or Fuck Off Frank. Not to his face as I'm a coward. But when I see his name come up on my phone I want to scream or self-harm (keep me away from sharp objects!), so I yell Fuck Off Frank to it several times before I take the call.
Mr Twat is running a conference. Or rather, I'm organising it for him. He wants it to be an annual event. I'm in the throes of organising the third annual conference and he still owes me for the work I did on the first two. He is paying me off whenever he gets a new sponsor for the current conference.
As a business plan goes, it sucks. "I can't pay you unless the conference makes a profit." It's rather like a commission-only sales job, and that is something to which I have never aspired.
Well. I spat the dummy last week. I have been extraordinarily - some say stupidly - generous in the time I've allowed him to pay me off. I've been called daft for still doing work for him but if I stop now I don't like my chances of getting paid as the conference needs to go ahead and make a profit.
The end result of the dummy spit is that Mr Twat rang me yesterday and told me that regardless of whether or not the conference made a profit he would pay me even if it had to come out of his own pocket. I suspect the concept of loaning your own company your own money to pay contractors or bills has only just occurred to him. The rest of us do it all the time.
What really irritates me, aside from the slow payments, is that Mr Twat will phone me on an almost daily basis with more tasks for this wretched event. He will talk on hands free because he's driving, which means essentially he shouts down the phone at me. I hate being shouted at. He also asks if I am in front of my computer or at my system, which truly pisses me off. Apparently I have no right or reason to be anywhere else, as he is often surprised if I tell him that I'm actually not sitting in front of a computer. People seem to think I spend 24/7 at the desk. Perhaps they believe I sleep with my computer, holding my laptop like a lover. I bloody don't.
This year my intent is to grow some balls and spit the dummy at problem clients more often. I have eye problems which mean I can't realistically do a full day's work sitting in front of a computer. My eyes get tired, the left one gets painful and stings. I am now picking and choosing who I work for, and will be moving Mr Twat off my client list once he has paid up in full.
Life's too short.
After giving up hope of getting any money out of The Scarlet Pimpernel - a cunning, conniving cow who racked up thousands of dollars of web and design work with me and didn't pay me, then proceeded to do the same to at least two others - I now have another client who wants me to do work urgently but doesn't have the money to pay.
A friend of mine nicknamed him Mr Twat. I call him Fer-ANK or Fuck Off Frank. Not to his face as I'm a coward. But when I see his name come up on my phone I want to scream or self-harm (keep me away from sharp objects!), so I yell Fuck Off Frank to it several times before I take the call.
Mr Twat is running a conference. Or rather, I'm organising it for him. He wants it to be an annual event. I'm in the throes of organising the third annual conference and he still owes me for the work I did on the first two. He is paying me off whenever he gets a new sponsor for the current conference.
As a business plan goes, it sucks. "I can't pay you unless the conference makes a profit." It's rather like a commission-only sales job, and that is something to which I have never aspired.
Well. I spat the dummy last week. I have been extraordinarily - some say stupidly - generous in the time I've allowed him to pay me off. I've been called daft for still doing work for him but if I stop now I don't like my chances of getting paid as the conference needs to go ahead and make a profit.
The end result of the dummy spit is that Mr Twat rang me yesterday and told me that regardless of whether or not the conference made a profit he would pay me even if it had to come out of his own pocket. I suspect the concept of loaning your own company your own money to pay contractors or bills has only just occurred to him. The rest of us do it all the time.
What really irritates me, aside from the slow payments, is that Mr Twat will phone me on an almost daily basis with more tasks for this wretched event. He will talk on hands free because he's driving, which means essentially he shouts down the phone at me. I hate being shouted at. He also asks if I am in front of my computer or at my system, which truly pisses me off. Apparently I have no right or reason to be anywhere else, as he is often surprised if I tell him that I'm actually not sitting in front of a computer. People seem to think I spend 24/7 at the desk. Perhaps they believe I sleep with my computer, holding my laptop like a lover. I bloody don't.
This year my intent is to grow some balls and spit the dummy at problem clients more often. I have eye problems which mean I can't realistically do a full day's work sitting in front of a computer. My eyes get tired, the left one gets painful and stings. I am now picking and choosing who I work for, and will be moving Mr Twat off my client list once he has paid up in full.
Life's too short.
Wednesday, September 17, 2014
Does success equal happiness?
I get a lot of emails. I guess we all do, but because of the contacts I have in the business world I get plenty of emails from business coaches etc talking about success. I got one five minutes ago from one such person who was offering me a special deal on a seminar which would unlock my potential and guide me onto the road to success.
I found myself saying out loud, "But I don't want success. I just want to be happy."
All through my corporate life I kicked and fought my way up the ladder. I started my own business in 2001 with the aim of being successful and earning more than I did in the corporate world. That hasn't happened. I've come near to breakdown twice owing to demanding clients and their deadlines; I can only work seven days straight for so many weeks in a row before I start feeling like self-harming.
So now I work part-time. My business is anything BUT a success. And you know what, I don't care. I make just enough to scrape by, my house is paid for and my husband is on a half-decent but not mind-blowing salary.
I don't want success; success means going back to full time work, to dealing with more people than I care to deal with.
Happiness is more important. Having the time to bake bread which is an 18 hour job including overnight rising. Having the time to tend the garden in the middle of the day. Being able to do the clothes washing midweek. Being with my animals. Working on the house. In summer, being able to nick down to the local river baths for an hour or two if I want to.
I think I'm achieving happiness. And that's more important, for me, than success.
I found myself saying out loud, "But I don't want success. I just want to be happy."
All through my corporate life I kicked and fought my way up the ladder. I started my own business in 2001 with the aim of being successful and earning more than I did in the corporate world. That hasn't happened. I've come near to breakdown twice owing to demanding clients and their deadlines; I can only work seven days straight for so many weeks in a row before I start feeling like self-harming.
So now I work part-time. My business is anything BUT a success. And you know what, I don't care. I make just enough to scrape by, my house is paid for and my husband is on a half-decent but not mind-blowing salary.
I don't want success; success means going back to full time work, to dealing with more people than I care to deal with.
Happiness is more important. Having the time to bake bread which is an 18 hour job including overnight rising. Having the time to tend the garden in the middle of the day. Being able to do the clothes washing midweek. Being with my animals. Working on the house. In summer, being able to nick down to the local river baths for an hour or two if I want to.
I think I'm achieving happiness. And that's more important, for me, than success.
Wednesday, September 3, 2014
Cinderella does NOT want to go to the ball
Tonight I have to attend a Local Business Awards night on behalf of one of my clients. For most people, the opportunity to party is one they look forward to.
I'm dreading it.
It's a sociophobe's nightmare. 450 people in a room. I know the people I'll be sitting with at my table but oh, the hell of having to network beforehand with complete bloody strangers. Finding something intelligent to say in a room that will be echoing loudly with 449 people doing the same. I can't saunter in late either as there won't be any parking spaces left.
So I'll be stuck from 7 till at least 11 in this bloody function, wishing I was at home with a glass of wine, 2 cats, a dog and a husband. Because I'll be driving to the function I can't have more than 2 glasses of wine so even good old Dutch Courage is out.
To make matters worse I have to do the same thing next week on behalf of someone else. They offered me their ticket as an honour, knowing I was too broke to buy a ticket of my own and thinking I'd love the opportunity to attend. The real truth - I wanted to avoid the event at all costs and not being terribly financial was a great excuse. Now I'm Sucked In Cinderella, with two socially terrifying events in two weeks.
As a result of tonight I've been depressed all day. I can't concentrate on work this afternoon so I've been playing jigsaws online. I've eaten chocolate for the first time in weeks. I had a screaming fit earlier in the day after a phone call with another client, one who always puts my back up because he calls hands free from his car and shouts down the phone. Also he has a thick accent and I can't always understand him. To cap it all I'm waiting for a box of brochures to take to tonight's event on behalf of my client and the courier still hasn't arrived. I've been waiting since 7am and have phoned them. I have to deliver the box to the venue by 5, then come home and get changed and rush back again.
I can't make excuses and get out of going tonight as my client will be going herself and she's just undergone a medical procedure and will be dragging herself there, the walking wounded. Just because I'm a sociophobe doesn't let me out of it.
Hate hate hate my job and the ensuing social events. Dammit, universe, please let me win the lottery so I can retire!
I'm dreading it.
It's a sociophobe's nightmare. 450 people in a room. I know the people I'll be sitting with at my table but oh, the hell of having to network beforehand with complete bloody strangers. Finding something intelligent to say in a room that will be echoing loudly with 449 people doing the same. I can't saunter in late either as there won't be any parking spaces left.
So I'll be stuck from 7 till at least 11 in this bloody function, wishing I was at home with a glass of wine, 2 cats, a dog and a husband. Because I'll be driving to the function I can't have more than 2 glasses of wine so even good old Dutch Courage is out.
To make matters worse I have to do the same thing next week on behalf of someone else. They offered me their ticket as an honour, knowing I was too broke to buy a ticket of my own and thinking I'd love the opportunity to attend. The real truth - I wanted to avoid the event at all costs and not being terribly financial was a great excuse. Now I'm Sucked In Cinderella, with two socially terrifying events in two weeks.
As a result of tonight I've been depressed all day. I can't concentrate on work this afternoon so I've been playing jigsaws online. I've eaten chocolate for the first time in weeks. I had a screaming fit earlier in the day after a phone call with another client, one who always puts my back up because he calls hands free from his car and shouts down the phone. Also he has a thick accent and I can't always understand him. To cap it all I'm waiting for a box of brochures to take to tonight's event on behalf of my client and the courier still hasn't arrived. I've been waiting since 7am and have phoned them. I have to deliver the box to the venue by 5, then come home and get changed and rush back again.
I can't make excuses and get out of going tonight as my client will be going herself and she's just undergone a medical procedure and will be dragging herself there, the walking wounded. Just because I'm a sociophobe doesn't let me out of it.
Hate hate hate my job and the ensuing social events. Dammit, universe, please let me win the lottery so I can retire!
Thursday, July 17, 2014
The quarterly hell of BAS
I run my own business (ha! "Business" is giving it more gravitas than it merits right now) and have to report quarterly to the Australian Taxation Office, lodging a Business Activity Statement (BAS). I dread the 28th day of each quarter as BAS lodgement cutoff looms.
I am not great at keeping the Excel spreadsheet I use to run my very basic accounting system up to date, so BAS prep is a flurry of going through three months of bank statements and matching items to bills or payments, and chasing up things that I can't think for the life of me what they may be.
Excel likes to crash on my Mac, too, so it means saving after every single entry as I HATE having to retype items. I don't like using Excel as I get confused with writing formulas. I'm thick as two short planks when it comes to algebra. I am rather innumerate in general.
I also hate typing numerals; as a touch-typist I am crap and freely admit it.
I was rash enough to get a second-hand car on hire purchase 3 years ago as it's a good tax break, and the calculations required to run a car do my head in.
I could use a bookkeeper but can't afford to pay one, and I would still have to go through all the shite of printing invoices out, writing stuff on the bank statements etc etc so the bookkeeper could make sense of it. Then answer questions anyway, so I may as well just do all the stressy stuff in one afternoon myself.
To cap it all, my Mac has a java issue which means it can't talk to the ATO's tax portal, and my choices are to completely reformat the thing and lose a day or two while I hunt up licences for some programs, or buy a new one and lose a day or two etc etc. I don't have the time for either or the money for the latter. Thankfully my accountant has been lodging the BAS figures for me at no charge since the java issue popped up.
So I took out my annoyance after doing this quarter's BAS this afternoon and did a rather badly-drawn cartoon about my feelings. I have stopped swearing now; I think I will have a cup of tea.
I am not great at keeping the Excel spreadsheet I use to run my very basic accounting system up to date, so BAS prep is a flurry of going through three months of bank statements and matching items to bills or payments, and chasing up things that I can't think for the life of me what they may be.
Excel likes to crash on my Mac, too, so it means saving after every single entry as I HATE having to retype items. I don't like using Excel as I get confused with writing formulas. I'm thick as two short planks when it comes to algebra. I am rather innumerate in general.
I also hate typing numerals; as a touch-typist I am crap and freely admit it.
I was rash enough to get a second-hand car on hire purchase 3 years ago as it's a good tax break, and the calculations required to run a car do my head in.
I could use a bookkeeper but can't afford to pay one, and I would still have to go through all the shite of printing invoices out, writing stuff on the bank statements etc etc so the bookkeeper could make sense of it. Then answer questions anyway, so I may as well just do all the stressy stuff in one afternoon myself.
To cap it all, my Mac has a java issue which means it can't talk to the ATO's tax portal, and my choices are to completely reformat the thing and lose a day or two while I hunt up licences for some programs, or buy a new one and lose a day or two etc etc. I don't have the time for either or the money for the latter. Thankfully my accountant has been lodging the BAS figures for me at no charge since the java issue popped up.
So I took out my annoyance after doing this quarter's BAS this afternoon and did a rather badly-drawn cartoon about my feelings. I have stopped swearing now; I think I will have a cup of tea.
Wednesday, July 16, 2014
Welcome to my workday
I'm not the diligent worker I used to be. Part of that is not being in the corporate world any more. Another part is realising that even if I work six or seven days a week I'm not going to double my income… maybe earn 1/5 more and it's not just worth it.
So I seem to have developed a pattern that is ever-so-slightly ambivalent when it comes to work tasks, especially if I'm trying to write a business proposal for one of my clients, as I am at the moment, and finding it hard going. The temptation to goof off is irresistible - so I do.
Today, therefore, has been somewhat like this:
8.50am. Have a fag.
9.00am. Open up the laptop and head to Facebook while the emails are loading.
9.05am. Good. Nothing urgent in the emails. Back to Facebook. Share some posts for major client.
9.15am. Better check that Forum I'm a moderator of. It's not work-related.
9.40am. Is that the time? Gosh. Better check the emails again. Will have a fag first though.
9.45am. Real work. There's an email I have to respond to which means a website update for major client, plus social media sharing etc etc. And a MailChimp email to go out.
10.10am Check if the items I'm selling on eBay have any more watchers.
10.11am. Bugger, they don't. Back to Facebook. But first, a fag.
10.20am Major client phone call; take notes
10.30am Check emails for fellow contractor for major client who's on holidays this week.
10.35am Gosh there are some interesting links off the Facebook feed this morning. If not interesting, then trashy enough to get my attention.
10.45am Check email. Ooh, look, there's one from the people who sell great baking products. French flour, the special stuff used to make baguettes, is on sale this week. I try to buy a 5kg bag but my login won't work. I phone the company and they say they've redone their website since I last bought anything from them so I have to set up a new account. I do and I order the flour and speculate happily for a few minutes about bread baking.
11.00am Fag
11.05am Sigh, I get onto that proposal. I feel as if I can't write bum on a wall today. It's a hard slog.
12.00pm. Fag. Then back in to Facebook. I get diverted by Simon's Cat videos.
12.20pm Lunch. I heat up some Asian chicken and rice leftovers from the meal I made on Monday night and enjoy a pleasant 40 minutes reading 1,000 Years of Annoying the French by Stephen Clarke.
1.00pm. Fag break. Then I decide it would be nice to light a candle as the scent will inspire me.
1.10pm. Feeling inspired somewhat. Time to get off Facebook and back to writing.
1.30pm Muse, where the **** are you? Wonder if there's anything interesting on Facebook at the moment? I'll just check. Oh look, some silly cow spent £18,000 getting plastic surgery to make herself look like Kim Kardashian. And now she's broke. Hell, she could always hire herself out to open shopping centres or something as a would-be Kim.
1.45pm Any more movement on eBay?
1.50pm Back to writing that proposal. Word. By. Word.
2.00pm Oh look, there's an email from The Fabric Store. There's a 40% off sale this week only for VIP customers like me. It's been months since I made any outfits. Worth a look on Friday then as I have to be over that way anyway. I spend a happy five minutes browsing the website to see if it's worth my while heading into the physical shop.
2.05pm The candle smells great. I'll put a post on Facebook about it. And then I'll have a fag.
2.15pm The words are coming a little easier now. Must be the candle.
2.45pm Nope. Words have dried up. I take the compost container down to the compost bin and inspect my veggies. Something's got at the purple cauliflower.
3.00pm Anything new on Facebook?
3.05pm. Fag break. Then back to the proposal.
3.15pm I give up on the proposal and decide to write this blog post instead. After this I'm going to spend a bit of quality time on Pinterest, another great time waster, where I am currently enthralled by mid-century modern furniture. I'll give the proposal one more bash before I stop for good today.
Some days work. Some just don't. And that applies to me personally too.
How about you?
So I seem to have developed a pattern that is ever-so-slightly ambivalent when it comes to work tasks, especially if I'm trying to write a business proposal for one of my clients, as I am at the moment, and finding it hard going. The temptation to goof off is irresistible - so I do.
Today, therefore, has been somewhat like this:
8.50am. Have a fag.
9.00am. Open up the laptop and head to Facebook while the emails are loading.
9.05am. Good. Nothing urgent in the emails. Back to Facebook. Share some posts for major client.
9.15am. Better check that Forum I'm a moderator of. It's not work-related.
9.40am. Is that the time? Gosh. Better check the emails again. Will have a fag first though.
9.45am. Real work. There's an email I have to respond to which means a website update for major client, plus social media sharing etc etc. And a MailChimp email to go out.
10.10am Check if the items I'm selling on eBay have any more watchers.
10.11am. Bugger, they don't. Back to Facebook. But first, a fag.
10.20am Major client phone call; take notes
10.30am Check emails for fellow contractor for major client who's on holidays this week.
10.35am Gosh there are some interesting links off the Facebook feed this morning. If not interesting, then trashy enough to get my attention.
10.45am Check email. Ooh, look, there's one from the people who sell great baking products. French flour, the special stuff used to make baguettes, is on sale this week. I try to buy a 5kg bag but my login won't work. I phone the company and they say they've redone their website since I last bought anything from them so I have to set up a new account. I do and I order the flour and speculate happily for a few minutes about bread baking.
11.00am Fag
11.05am Sigh, I get onto that proposal. I feel as if I can't write bum on a wall today. It's a hard slog.
12.00pm. Fag. Then back in to Facebook. I get diverted by Simon's Cat videos.
12.20pm Lunch. I heat up some Asian chicken and rice leftovers from the meal I made on Monday night and enjoy a pleasant 40 minutes reading 1,000 Years of Annoying the French by Stephen Clarke.
1.00pm. Fag break. Then I decide it would be nice to light a candle as the scent will inspire me.
1.10pm. Feeling inspired somewhat. Time to get off Facebook and back to writing.
1.30pm Muse, where the **** are you? Wonder if there's anything interesting on Facebook at the moment? I'll just check. Oh look, some silly cow spent £18,000 getting plastic surgery to make herself look like Kim Kardashian. And now she's broke. Hell, she could always hire herself out to open shopping centres or something as a would-be Kim.
1.45pm Any more movement on eBay?
1.50pm Back to writing that proposal. Word. By. Word.
2.00pm Oh look, there's an email from The Fabric Store. There's a 40% off sale this week only for VIP customers like me. It's been months since I made any outfits. Worth a look on Friday then as I have to be over that way anyway. I spend a happy five minutes browsing the website to see if it's worth my while heading into the physical shop.
2.05pm The candle smells great. I'll put a post on Facebook about it. And then I'll have a fag.
2.15pm The words are coming a little easier now. Must be the candle.
2.45pm Nope. Words have dried up. I take the compost container down to the compost bin and inspect my veggies. Something's got at the purple cauliflower.
3.00pm Anything new on Facebook?
3.05pm. Fag break. Then back to the proposal.
3.15pm I give up on the proposal and decide to write this blog post instead. After this I'm going to spend a bit of quality time on Pinterest, another great time waster, where I am currently enthralled by mid-century modern furniture. I'll give the proposal one more bash before I stop for good today.
Some days work. Some just don't. And that applies to me personally too.
How about you?
Monday, March 31, 2014
The joy of getting physical
This has been the strangest year of my life so far; the saddest too. It's cognitive dissonance, living in my old family home with echoes of Mum in every room. I expect her to be there, but she's not. I talk to her anyway.
The weird thing is, I can't spend all day at a computer any more. I get twitchy. I also feel like falling asleep. I long to get up and DO something. Herbert knows there is plenty to do.
So my goal now is to do something for the house every day. It could be something small, such as tidying a cupboard. It could be washing a wall. It could be garden work. As long as it is something physical, which gets me away from the computer and the slightly depressed attitude I get when I sit at it for too long.
Most of my weekends are now largely computer-free. I catch up with Facebook but often on a mobile device rather than the computer.
Last weekend was lovely. Lots of outdoor work in the garden - poisoning morning glory (how romantic, the two of us under a camellia bush, one clipping the awful vines, one dipping them in a lethal mix of Resolva and diesel), weeding the lawn of dandelions yet again, recementing the stone coping around one garden bed, digging old and hopeless soil out of same.... Just great. I was sweating like a bastard in the early autumn sun, covered in dirt with a light coating of herbicide. Utter joy. My muscles ached pleasantly and my mind was on the vision of what this garden will look like when I've finished ripping out dead stuff, underperforming plants and a multitude of weeds.
Understandably I had trouble focussing on work today. The sun shone outside, beckoning me. We'd started the day with a brisk 30 minute walk as G was flying our for work at lunchtime so we didn't have to get up at six and get him out the door by 7.30 after a full breakfast. Nope, it was a leisurely if physical start.
I put up with work stuff until four, then headed for the garden, to finish digging out a bed we'd started on over the weekend. There was a ten year old golden diosma in there which I was heartily sick of, as it had gone scrawny and was too big for the bed, realistically. Ten minutes of tugging and carefully finding and pulling at roots saw it gone. We've had plenty of rain lately so it was a fairly easy job pulling it out. My back feels fine right now.
After digging I was able to plant out some young plants I had collected in readiness. It's so satisfying seeing a garden bed come together. I've chosen a predominantly blue and white scheme with occasional forays into red. I think too I'll have to pop a few more plants in there to bulk it up a bit - and keep the weeds out.
This is the smallest bed I'll be working on. I have grand plans for the rest of the garden area which will see me busy for months. And of course once it's all done it will need regular maintenance to keep it looking good. I'm planning a mix of ornamental and edible plants. It's funny how good a broccoli plant can look next door to something ornamental like a hydrangea.
Whatever goes in my garden will have to either be edible, look good or smell good. Or a mix of at least two out of those three! I can foresee some very physical times ahead. I think my winter workdays may be rather short as winter, with the cool days, is the best time to be outside, digging madly.
My Mum originally planted a rose garden in one bed, so one plan is to reinstate that. That's definitely a winter job, while the roses are dormant. If only I could get paid for doing the gardening, I would happily give up the day job.
The weird thing is, I can't spend all day at a computer any more. I get twitchy. I also feel like falling asleep. I long to get up and DO something. Herbert knows there is plenty to do.
So my goal now is to do something for the house every day. It could be something small, such as tidying a cupboard. It could be washing a wall. It could be garden work. As long as it is something physical, which gets me away from the computer and the slightly depressed attitude I get when I sit at it for too long.
Most of my weekends are now largely computer-free. I catch up with Facebook but often on a mobile device rather than the computer.
Last weekend was lovely. Lots of outdoor work in the garden - poisoning morning glory (how romantic, the two of us under a camellia bush, one clipping the awful vines, one dipping them in a lethal mix of Resolva and diesel), weeding the lawn of dandelions yet again, recementing the stone coping around one garden bed, digging old and hopeless soil out of same.... Just great. I was sweating like a bastard in the early autumn sun, covered in dirt with a light coating of herbicide. Utter joy. My muscles ached pleasantly and my mind was on the vision of what this garden will look like when I've finished ripping out dead stuff, underperforming plants and a multitude of weeds.
Understandably I had trouble focussing on work today. The sun shone outside, beckoning me. We'd started the day with a brisk 30 minute walk as G was flying our for work at lunchtime so we didn't have to get up at six and get him out the door by 7.30 after a full breakfast. Nope, it was a leisurely if physical start.
I put up with work stuff until four, then headed for the garden, to finish digging out a bed we'd started on over the weekend. There was a ten year old golden diosma in there which I was heartily sick of, as it had gone scrawny and was too big for the bed, realistically. Ten minutes of tugging and carefully finding and pulling at roots saw it gone. We've had plenty of rain lately so it was a fairly easy job pulling it out. My back feels fine right now.
After digging I was able to plant out some young plants I had collected in readiness. It's so satisfying seeing a garden bed come together. I've chosen a predominantly blue and white scheme with occasional forays into red. I think too I'll have to pop a few more plants in there to bulk it up a bit - and keep the weeds out.
This is the smallest bed I'll be working on. I have grand plans for the rest of the garden area which will see me busy for months. And of course once it's all done it will need regular maintenance to keep it looking good. I'm planning a mix of ornamental and edible plants. It's funny how good a broccoli plant can look next door to something ornamental like a hydrangea.
Whatever goes in my garden will have to either be edible, look good or smell good. Or a mix of at least two out of those three! I can foresee some very physical times ahead. I think my winter workdays may be rather short as winter, with the cool days, is the best time to be outside, digging madly.
My Mum originally planted a rose garden in one bed, so one plan is to reinstate that. That's definitely a winter job, while the roses are dormant. If only I could get paid for doing the gardening, I would happily give up the day job.
Monday, March 10, 2014
The joys of procrastination
Not for nothing have I renamed my blog But I Digress… I am good at digressing. I am also an expert procrastinator, especially on Monday mornings.
For the last two days I have been deliberately computer-free. I've used my phone and iPad to access social media and for fun only. Using technology for good not evil, as I put it. The only bad thing about this is that it has given me a taste of freedom, the opportunity to truly switch off and forget about work for the weekend.
So how did I spent my weekend? I didn't do anything most folk would consider exciting. First thing Saturday we headed to Orange Grove Markets for some good fruit, veg and pasta (well, that's mildly exciting, I love OG Markets). I weeded dandelions from the lawn both days, taking my weeding hours in the last seven days up to six. I mowed some of the lawn - will have to pick up some chunks of umbrella tree trunk before I can do the rest. G and I poisoned the remaining umbrella tree root in a very satisfying exercise. G and I took the dog for a good brisk walk on Sunday before breakfast. I hoovered the house. I scrubbed the bathroom. I did a few loads of washing. I read a book. G and I hung and rehung some pictures. I took down the venetian blinds in the living room as the cords had broken on two of them and anyway they were cheap things from Freedom Furniture 20-something years old. I polished some furniture. We rearranged some of the bedroom furniture. We both did some ironing as it had piled up. Are you seeing a picture here? Apart from reading a book, it was a pretty physical weekend.
After weekends like this I find it hard to tie myself down to a computer on a Monday morning. So all this morning I have been procrastinating, playing for time before sitting at The Screen of Doom. G leaves for work at 7.30am. At that point I put on washing; I have some blankets to wash which I am giving away on Freecycle. I did the washing up and cleaned the kitchen benches. I hung the first load of washing out and put another blankety lot on. That's also hanging out now, together with load number three, white stuff. I mopped the kitchen, bathroom, loo and laundry. I brought the bins in. I watered the lawn where I'd put lawn seed down the week before, and the little garden near our front door.
Yes, it's sad: I far more enjoy housewifely tasks than work tasks. I would rather scrub the floors than build a website. With the changes I've had in my life over these last few months I would rather clean the toilet with my own toothbrush than build websites and put up with clients.
G has been away quite a lot in the last couple of months, so I have ironed several shirts for him. He usually irons his own shirts (quite the enlightened bloke in some ways). In our marathon ironing session yesterday he mentioned that and thanked me for it, whereby I answered it was the least I could do and anyway, that's what I do. His reply: "I didn't marry a 'wifey'." Now 'wifey' I am not and we both know it. But is there a difference between a 'wifey' and a woman who enjoys the physical side of housework and treats it as exercise? Plus, I get a lot of gratification from cleaning things and seeing the result.
I've spoken with G about my loathing of doing the work I started my company for in 2001. Now we have moved into a mortgage-free house he has told me that if I want to cut down on the stuff I hate doing, I should. He'd sooner have me happy than stressed and miserable. So I have. I'm not building any new websites. I'm telling potential clients I'm too busy, and just keeping the existing ones and their odd requests for changes and updates.
But still, I have come to dread spending my days sitting in front of the computer. I've been using computers for more than 20 years, and am finding technology increasingly frustrating. I get cross with websites which don't accept the login I set up with them. (Not, I hasten to add, the ones I build myself). It seems you need a password for absolutely everything these days and it's overwhelming. I get cross with email spam, especially when it uses my own name as the sender, so I can't put it into junk mail as I don't want to ban my own email address from my own computer. I get cross with Microsoft products, particularly Excel as it keeps crashing when you least want it to. I get cross with Google products when they change the layout and setup and you can't find what you bloody well want in terms of functionality. I just get cross.
So I procrastinate. I figure I can spend at least an hour after breakfast each day on cleaning maintenance, i.e. washing up, sweeping the kitchen, using the carpet sweeper on the rest of the house, with a major hoovering at weekends, watering the garden and lawn. I can walk to the post office and check my PO box.
And when I do get onto the computer and go through the emails and say "fuck off" to every single junk email - today I fantasised about meeting the bastard who sent me 47 emails about Louis Vuitton products using my own email address, and strangling him -, I then spend some quality time on Facebook and personal sites. Anything to put off the inevitable work stuff.
I have even stalled the workday by writing this blog post. But all good things must come to an end. The sun is shining outside and the sky a superb azure. And I'm stuck in the office, about to research some social media products for a client.
Ooh! Procrastination alert: it's almost morning tea time. I'll go and put the kettle on and that will give me the opportunity to enjoy a cup of coffee outside in the sun…
For the last two days I have been deliberately computer-free. I've used my phone and iPad to access social media and for fun only. Using technology for good not evil, as I put it. The only bad thing about this is that it has given me a taste of freedom, the opportunity to truly switch off and forget about work for the weekend.
So how did I spent my weekend? I didn't do anything most folk would consider exciting. First thing Saturday we headed to Orange Grove Markets for some good fruit, veg and pasta (well, that's mildly exciting, I love OG Markets). I weeded dandelions from the lawn both days, taking my weeding hours in the last seven days up to six. I mowed some of the lawn - will have to pick up some chunks of umbrella tree trunk before I can do the rest. G and I poisoned the remaining umbrella tree root in a very satisfying exercise. G and I took the dog for a good brisk walk on Sunday before breakfast. I hoovered the house. I scrubbed the bathroom. I did a few loads of washing. I read a book. G and I hung and rehung some pictures. I took down the venetian blinds in the living room as the cords had broken on two of them and anyway they were cheap things from Freedom Furniture 20-something years old. I polished some furniture. We rearranged some of the bedroom furniture. We both did some ironing as it had piled up. Are you seeing a picture here? Apart from reading a book, it was a pretty physical weekend.
After weekends like this I find it hard to tie myself down to a computer on a Monday morning. So all this morning I have been procrastinating, playing for time before sitting at The Screen of Doom. G leaves for work at 7.30am. At that point I put on washing; I have some blankets to wash which I am giving away on Freecycle. I did the washing up and cleaned the kitchen benches. I hung the first load of washing out and put another blankety lot on. That's also hanging out now, together with load number three, white stuff. I mopped the kitchen, bathroom, loo and laundry. I brought the bins in. I watered the lawn where I'd put lawn seed down the week before, and the little garden near our front door.
Yes, it's sad: I far more enjoy housewifely tasks than work tasks. I would rather scrub the floors than build a website. With the changes I've had in my life over these last few months I would rather clean the toilet with my own toothbrush than build websites and put up with clients.
G has been away quite a lot in the last couple of months, so I have ironed several shirts for him. He usually irons his own shirts (quite the enlightened bloke in some ways). In our marathon ironing session yesterday he mentioned that and thanked me for it, whereby I answered it was the least I could do and anyway, that's what I do. His reply: "I didn't marry a 'wifey'." Now 'wifey' I am not and we both know it. But is there a difference between a 'wifey' and a woman who enjoys the physical side of housework and treats it as exercise? Plus, I get a lot of gratification from cleaning things and seeing the result.
I've spoken with G about my loathing of doing the work I started my company for in 2001. Now we have moved into a mortgage-free house he has told me that if I want to cut down on the stuff I hate doing, I should. He'd sooner have me happy than stressed and miserable. So I have. I'm not building any new websites. I'm telling potential clients I'm too busy, and just keeping the existing ones and their odd requests for changes and updates.
But still, I have come to dread spending my days sitting in front of the computer. I've been using computers for more than 20 years, and am finding technology increasingly frustrating. I get cross with websites which don't accept the login I set up with them. (Not, I hasten to add, the ones I build myself). It seems you need a password for absolutely everything these days and it's overwhelming. I get cross with email spam, especially when it uses my own name as the sender, so I can't put it into junk mail as I don't want to ban my own email address from my own computer. I get cross with Microsoft products, particularly Excel as it keeps crashing when you least want it to. I get cross with Google products when they change the layout and setup and you can't find what you bloody well want in terms of functionality. I just get cross.
So I procrastinate. I figure I can spend at least an hour after breakfast each day on cleaning maintenance, i.e. washing up, sweeping the kitchen, using the carpet sweeper on the rest of the house, with a major hoovering at weekends, watering the garden and lawn. I can walk to the post office and check my PO box.
And when I do get onto the computer and go through the emails and say "fuck off" to every single junk email - today I fantasised about meeting the bastard who sent me 47 emails about Louis Vuitton products using my own email address, and strangling him -, I then spend some quality time on Facebook and personal sites. Anything to put off the inevitable work stuff.
I have even stalled the workday by writing this blog post. But all good things must come to an end. The sun is shining outside and the sky a superb azure. And I'm stuck in the office, about to research some social media products for a client.
Ooh! Procrastination alert: it's almost morning tea time. I'll go and put the kettle on and that will give me the opportunity to enjoy a cup of coffee outside in the sun…
Thursday, September 19, 2013
Candlicious
My past is littered with failed multi-level-marketing attempts. In the 90s a close friend got me into Amway. It was disastrous. I didn't even manage to get one friend or colleague to 'look at the plan'.
Two years later I was more or less press-ganged into joining NuSkin at a women-only luncheon. I sold a couple of bottles of rather nice skin and face gunk but that was a fizzer, too.
Six years ago a colleague persuaded me to join Agel, saying I couldn't fail. Agel sells high-end vitamins. Unfortunately, good as the product was, the price was a bit of a killer, and as a rep I had to buy two boxes at month at around $100 each to stay in the business. I had no takers for becoming a rep under me, and, a couple of thousand dollars later, got out of that one.
At that point, I swore I would never again get involved in an MLM business as clearly I was not a born salesperson.
Why obviously explains why I've just signed up to PartyLite to become a candle lady, doesn't it?
The difference is, this time I have real faith in the product - and my friends are urging me to join so they can buy candles from me and hold candle parties with me presenting, so they get candle freebies of their own. I have finally found something people want to buy from me.
I am a candle addict. I have candles throughout the house and bugger the ozone layer and my carbon footprint, I thoroughly enjoy burning them. As a bit of a connoisseur of candles, I adore the PartyLite ones for their clean burn and good scents, which don't fade and aren't sickly overpowering. Before I even decided to become a 'candle lady' I was already a brand ambassador.
It was a tossup whether to try and supplement my income with PartyLite or Enjo, as I have big beliefs in both products. PartyLite won for the simple reason that people use and replace the candles quicker than they do the Enjo products. We'll treat ourselves with a pretty, sweet-smelling candle; it's an affordable luxury which starts at $17 - less than most lipsticks. We don't think of buying a cleaning glove as treating ourselves (but we are really, because we're cleaning the house without chemicals and our bodies will thank us). The money isn't quite as good with PartyLite but the starter kit is cheaper, and people really WANT to hold candle parties; already I have three friends who want to host one for me.
This time, I have also done my homework with my accountant. You see, most people who join an MLM business hear the words "expenses are tax deductible" and rub their hands happily. People trying to get you to join an MLM will tell you they are deducting their expenses so you can too, and if their MLM business is bringing them income which is higher than the tax-free threshold, they may well be deducting their expenses. However. The tax man gets grumpy on MLM people starting out who try and claim everything they spend on their business - Agel samples, Amway samples etc - as a tax deduction when they are not yet getting a large income from their MLM business. If your MLM business is earning less than the tax-free threshold, the ATO treats it as a hobby business and you can't claim expenses.
In my case, the main expenses I'll have are buying sets of new brochures from time to time and other stationery. Any candles or accessories I want to add to my kit I will get from 'hosting' my own candle party from time to time, as there are freebies for every person who hosts a party and depending on the takings from the party, the free candles could be up to $200 in value. If I achieve sales targets in the first three months the company will also give me a number of free accessories to use in my display kit.
My aim is that in a couple of years I can wind down the computer stuff and be, mainly, a candle lady. Ideally with a team under me, as that's how you really start to make an income from the business, obviously.
I hope, hope, hope I have found my niche. I need an extra income, I need something I can be passionate and confident talking about and demonstrating, and I need something people can afford and want. Hope it doesn't all go up in smoke!
Two years later I was more or less press-ganged into joining NuSkin at a women-only luncheon. I sold a couple of bottles of rather nice skin and face gunk but that was a fizzer, too.
Six years ago a colleague persuaded me to join Agel, saying I couldn't fail. Agel sells high-end vitamins. Unfortunately, good as the product was, the price was a bit of a killer, and as a rep I had to buy two boxes at month at around $100 each to stay in the business. I had no takers for becoming a rep under me, and, a couple of thousand dollars later, got out of that one.
At that point, I swore I would never again get involved in an MLM business as clearly I was not a born salesperson.
Why obviously explains why I've just signed up to PartyLite to become a candle lady, doesn't it?
The difference is, this time I have real faith in the product - and my friends are urging me to join so they can buy candles from me and hold candle parties with me presenting, so they get candle freebies of their own. I have finally found something people want to buy from me.
I am a candle addict. I have candles throughout the house and bugger the ozone layer and my carbon footprint, I thoroughly enjoy burning them. As a bit of a connoisseur of candles, I adore the PartyLite ones for their clean burn and good scents, which don't fade and aren't sickly overpowering. Before I even decided to become a 'candle lady' I was already a brand ambassador.
It was a tossup whether to try and supplement my income with PartyLite or Enjo, as I have big beliefs in both products. PartyLite won for the simple reason that people use and replace the candles quicker than they do the Enjo products. We'll treat ourselves with a pretty, sweet-smelling candle; it's an affordable luxury which starts at $17 - less than most lipsticks. We don't think of buying a cleaning glove as treating ourselves (but we are really, because we're cleaning the house without chemicals and our bodies will thank us). The money isn't quite as good with PartyLite but the starter kit is cheaper, and people really WANT to hold candle parties; already I have three friends who want to host one for me.
This time, I have also done my homework with my accountant. You see, most people who join an MLM business hear the words "expenses are tax deductible" and rub their hands happily. People trying to get you to join an MLM will tell you they are deducting their expenses so you can too, and if their MLM business is bringing them income which is higher than the tax-free threshold, they may well be deducting their expenses. However. The tax man gets grumpy on MLM people starting out who try and claim everything they spend on their business - Agel samples, Amway samples etc - as a tax deduction when they are not yet getting a large income from their MLM business. If your MLM business is earning less than the tax-free threshold, the ATO treats it as a hobby business and you can't claim expenses.
In my case, the main expenses I'll have are buying sets of new brochures from time to time and other stationery. Any candles or accessories I want to add to my kit I will get from 'hosting' my own candle party from time to time, as there are freebies for every person who hosts a party and depending on the takings from the party, the free candles could be up to $200 in value. If I achieve sales targets in the first three months the company will also give me a number of free accessories to use in my display kit.
My aim is that in a couple of years I can wind down the computer stuff and be, mainly, a candle lady. Ideally with a team under me, as that's how you really start to make an income from the business, obviously.
I hope, hope, hope I have found my niche. I need an extra income, I need something I can be passionate and confident talking about and demonstrating, and I need something people can afford and want. Hope it doesn't all go up in smoke!
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
The Scarlet Pimpernel strikes again... and again... and again
Early in 2012 I spoke of my search for The Scarlet Pimpernel, a client for whom I did a lot of work over the course of around twelve months, and who (still) owes me payment for quite a bit of it.
I couldn't find her then and didn't have the money to hire a private detective until early this year, when I finally got a new address for her. It wasn't what I expected. She is living in a furnished apartment on the north shore waterfront. This cool pad with superb views is a holiday/long let rental advertised for $1400 a week by its managers.
To say I was gobsmacked was an understatement. Actually, I didn't believe what the detective told me. I thought it must be one of her more well-off family members who lived there as the Pimpernel is more or less broke. Broke enough not to pay her suppliers.
Two months later I had phone calls from two people I'd never heard of before but they had one thing in common - TSP owed them money too. They both confirmed the address I'd been given was correct.
I got my solicitor onto the job and we launched a new statement of claim against TSP. This time it included interest on the original sum. I can imagine the Pimpernel hit the roof when it was finally delivered to her. By that point she wasn't opening her door to anyone let alone a process server, and now I know why.
It's not just me and the two others (who have since been paid and in one case accepted a much smaller payment just to stop TSP bullying herself and her staff and harassing them via phone and email). There is another guy taking her to court for several thousand dollars. There is a former employer gagging her as she has been badmouthing his company and causing trouble with his staff and that is in progress in the courts this month too. There was another firm she owed around $15K to but bullied them down to only paying half, citing that she doesn't have a printer at her home so couldn't print out a contract to sign and therefore didn't formally agree to the initial sum; she has threatened them with legal action if they object. Today I spoke to yet another person who is owed money for design services and is about to set a lawyer onto TSP.
So that makes seven with a grievance or who are owed money, and let's add the person who my process server tried to find at TSP's old address a couple of years ago, around, I suspect, the time I was doing work for TSP. I don't know who that is but TSP owed them money too.
TSP is, I think, going into meltdown. She took down her corporate website a few months back and this month her blog is missing and her Facebook corporate page is gone. On Twitter she has described herself as being offline for now. The Scarlet Pimpernel is doing a vanishing act.
Until recently TSP has had a pet lawyer, her boyfriend, but I understand they have broken up and I suspect with summonses and statements of claim flying at TSP from all directions, TSP is probably at her wit's end.
I suspect she may do a bolt and my solicitor is lodging a Default Judgement against her tomorrow; hopefully she is still living in the expensive pad and that will arrive in her letterbox. If she doesn't challenge it within two weeks it goes to court. Once it goes through court it's valid for twelve years.
In a way I feel sorry for her, as her behaviour has followed a consistent pattern for many years - one of the people I've spoken to this year told me he had to chase her with a debt collector ten years ago and again earlier this year for a second transaction. He'd forgotten about her and it wasn't until she didn't pay him this year that he twigged the name was familiar, checked his records and the rest is history.
She clearly has mental illness of some sort and admits openly to it. She never said anything about her mental state to me when I was working for her, but has been blatant about it to people since then, as if that is an excuse for her behaviour. I do hope she doesn't do anything stupid - if I were in so much financial trouble I'd be feeling suicidal, especially if I didn't have a house to sell to cover my debts and legal fees.
But while I feel sorry for her I'm still angry with her; angry for lying to me and telling the same sort of lies to other businesses who she has treated in the same way. I'm not sure whether she deliberately engages freelancers and small businesses knowing she can't and won't pay them or whether she hopes her ship will come in and the money will magically appear from one of her other contracts. If it's the latter the ship is the Titanic.
The story continues...
I couldn't find her then and didn't have the money to hire a private detective until early this year, when I finally got a new address for her. It wasn't what I expected. She is living in a furnished apartment on the north shore waterfront. This cool pad with superb views is a holiday/long let rental advertised for $1400 a week by its managers.
To say I was gobsmacked was an understatement. Actually, I didn't believe what the detective told me. I thought it must be one of her more well-off family members who lived there as the Pimpernel is more or less broke. Broke enough not to pay her suppliers.
Two months later I had phone calls from two people I'd never heard of before but they had one thing in common - TSP owed them money too. They both confirmed the address I'd been given was correct.
I got my solicitor onto the job and we launched a new statement of claim against TSP. This time it included interest on the original sum. I can imagine the Pimpernel hit the roof when it was finally delivered to her. By that point she wasn't opening her door to anyone let alone a process server, and now I know why.
It's not just me and the two others (who have since been paid and in one case accepted a much smaller payment just to stop TSP bullying herself and her staff and harassing them via phone and email). There is another guy taking her to court for several thousand dollars. There is a former employer gagging her as she has been badmouthing his company and causing trouble with his staff and that is in progress in the courts this month too. There was another firm she owed around $15K to but bullied them down to only paying half, citing that she doesn't have a printer at her home so couldn't print out a contract to sign and therefore didn't formally agree to the initial sum; she has threatened them with legal action if they object. Today I spoke to yet another person who is owed money for design services and is about to set a lawyer onto TSP.
So that makes seven with a grievance or who are owed money, and let's add the person who my process server tried to find at TSP's old address a couple of years ago, around, I suspect, the time I was doing work for TSP. I don't know who that is but TSP owed them money too.
TSP is, I think, going into meltdown. She took down her corporate website a few months back and this month her blog is missing and her Facebook corporate page is gone. On Twitter she has described herself as being offline for now. The Scarlet Pimpernel is doing a vanishing act.
Until recently TSP has had a pet lawyer, her boyfriend, but I understand they have broken up and I suspect with summonses and statements of claim flying at TSP from all directions, TSP is probably at her wit's end.
I suspect she may do a bolt and my solicitor is lodging a Default Judgement against her tomorrow; hopefully she is still living in the expensive pad and that will arrive in her letterbox. If she doesn't challenge it within two weeks it goes to court. Once it goes through court it's valid for twelve years.
In a way I feel sorry for her, as her behaviour has followed a consistent pattern for many years - one of the people I've spoken to this year told me he had to chase her with a debt collector ten years ago and again earlier this year for a second transaction. He'd forgotten about her and it wasn't until she didn't pay him this year that he twigged the name was familiar, checked his records and the rest is history.
She clearly has mental illness of some sort and admits openly to it. She never said anything about her mental state to me when I was working for her, but has been blatant about it to people since then, as if that is an excuse for her behaviour. I do hope she doesn't do anything stupid - if I were in so much financial trouble I'd be feeling suicidal, especially if I didn't have a house to sell to cover my debts and legal fees.
But while I feel sorry for her I'm still angry with her; angry for lying to me and telling the same sort of lies to other businesses who she has treated in the same way. I'm not sure whether she deliberately engages freelancers and small businesses knowing she can't and won't pay them or whether she hopes her ship will come in and the money will magically appear from one of her other contracts. If it's the latter the ship is the Titanic.
The story continues...
Monday, April 8, 2013
Dots before my eyes.
Today's Mondayitis is brought to you by blue dots. Not to mention red and green ones.
Well, it isn't, really, it's brought to you by having to go out tonight to a networking function I have co-organised. I always get depressed in the daytime before I have to go to these functions. Y'see, the networking functions are at the end of the day when I've had enough of the human race. I don't want to be changing into my business attire at 4pm and heading out. It's time to head home. Once I'm at the functions I'm fine though; get a glass of chardy into me and I'm quite cheerful.
But back to the blue dots.
The board which runs the association for which I do the networking nights is all in a kerfuffle about putting coloured dots on the name badges of the attendees for tonight's function. A blue dot means they are top level members, a green dot will mean they are middle level and a red dot means they are the lowest level.
My co-organiser for the event, whom I shall call The Fit One (as she is, she teaches gym classes part time), has already put dots on the name tags.
The poor chook will now have to take them off following a heated email discussion about the colour of the dots and whether all three levels of membership need dots.
Someone said they should be gold, silver and bronze instead. Just try buying bronze sticky dots at the newsagent, my friend. You might get the gold and silver, except they are likely to be star-shaped; the stickers which cheer up the kids in infants' school.
Someone else said only the top level members should get dots so people could see they were 'important'.
This was all getting a bit heated.
Our Leader (chairman of the board) has now sent an email around saying there will be no dots at all at tonight's meeting and we will discuss, as a board, the way forward regarding dots at the next board meeting.
The Fit One will be annoyed right now as she'll have to peel off all the dots as we undoubtedly don't have enough spare name tags WITHOUT dots!
Our Leader is taking her duties very seriously. She has developed a slightly patronising style of writing which irks me somewhat as the pedantic English she uses is often misspelt. If you can't spell it, don't write it down. The syntax bugs me though. She's trying to sound smarter and more imposing than she really is. It doesn't go with her bumfreezer skirts and low cut tops.
So we will spend at least fifteen minutes at the next board meeting talking about dots. Maybe the dot problem will be resolved, maybe it won't.
We have a very active Board at the moment who find a lot of ideas for The Fit One and I to pursue which is fine, but we have a very limited budget and the switch from blue dots to gold could make the difference between being in the black and the red.
It's enough to send you dotty.
Well, it isn't, really, it's brought to you by having to go out tonight to a networking function I have co-organised. I always get depressed in the daytime before I have to go to these functions. Y'see, the networking functions are at the end of the day when I've had enough of the human race. I don't want to be changing into my business attire at 4pm and heading out. It's time to head home. Once I'm at the functions I'm fine though; get a glass of chardy into me and I'm quite cheerful.
But back to the blue dots.
The board which runs the association for which I do the networking nights is all in a kerfuffle about putting coloured dots on the name badges of the attendees for tonight's function. A blue dot means they are top level members, a green dot will mean they are middle level and a red dot means they are the lowest level.
My co-organiser for the event, whom I shall call The Fit One (as she is, she teaches gym classes part time), has already put dots on the name tags.
The poor chook will now have to take them off following a heated email discussion about the colour of the dots and whether all three levels of membership need dots.
Someone said they should be gold, silver and bronze instead. Just try buying bronze sticky dots at the newsagent, my friend. You might get the gold and silver, except they are likely to be star-shaped; the stickers which cheer up the kids in infants' school.
Someone else said only the top level members should get dots so people could see they were 'important'.
This was all getting a bit heated.
Our Leader (chairman of the board) has now sent an email around saying there will be no dots at all at tonight's meeting and we will discuss, as a board, the way forward regarding dots at the next board meeting.
The Fit One will be annoyed right now as she'll have to peel off all the dots as we undoubtedly don't have enough spare name tags WITHOUT dots!
Our Leader is taking her duties very seriously. She has developed a slightly patronising style of writing which irks me somewhat as the pedantic English she uses is often misspelt. If you can't spell it, don't write it down. The syntax bugs me though. She's trying to sound smarter and more imposing than she really is. It doesn't go with her bumfreezer skirts and low cut tops.
So we will spend at least fifteen minutes at the next board meeting talking about dots. Maybe the dot problem will be resolved, maybe it won't.
We have a very active Board at the moment who find a lot of ideas for The Fit One and I to pursue which is fine, but we have a very limited budget and the switch from blue dots to gold could make the difference between being in the black and the red.
It's enough to send you dotty.
Monday, January 21, 2013
Can't stop that day
Monday. What is it about Monday that makes songwriters attracted to it in a way that they aren't about Wednesday or Thursday? Tuesday got its chance with Ruby Tuesday, and Friday on My Mind is a 60s classic.
Friday songs are upbeat. The weekend is on the way.
But Monday... oh dear. Monday Monday, can't stop that day. I don't like Mondays. Manic Monday. And let's not forget Blue Monday (New Order). Says it all really.
Frankly I don't like Mondays either. I get blue on Mondays. I am a classic sufferer of Mondayitis, and this is my second working Monday of 2013. I've already had enough!
This year I'm trying to only work part time; I'll be choosing my clients carefully. If someone sounds like trouble at the first conversation, I don't take on the job. My experience is that troublesome clients always want to pay as little as they can and indulge their right to change their mind often on fixed price projects.
Menopausal women can go through weird emotional and mental stages. I suspect I'm in one right now and have been for over a year. I just don't want to work. Part of that too is that I don't make much out of what I do so slogging away for nine or ten hours a day is discouraging, but the thought of going out and getting a paid job, with a supervisor/boss telling me what to do and watching how long I take for lunch, peering over my shoulder to see what I'm doing, the awfulness of KPIs and reviews, the sick feeling in the pit of the stomach when you ask for annual leave in case it gets knocked back and the unspeakable hell of workstations and shared offices... oh no, I don't want that again. No money would be enough. I'm an unemployable renegade these days.
So Mondays (like rainy days... there's a song in that!) are getting me down at the moment. I've had three weeks without work, weeks to explore painting, drawing and dressmaking/craft stuff. Fantastic weeks with little computer time. Freedom. Me time.
I'm not alone - I know that! But time was many years ago when I DID like Mondays and quite enjoyed my job. I was an employee at that stage but extraordinarily blessed with a great boss and my own office. This was in the heady days when email was just coming into regular use and didn't take up 90% of your work time. The company I worked for had a wonderful family atmosphere which changed after we were taken over; I scored a new boss who was a total control freak and sent me pretty close to a breakdown. I began to loathe my job and used to cry in the mornings as I drove to work. After that, my third control freak boss in my career, I decided enough was enough and lit out on my own.
They say that if you have a hobby you enjoy, make a career out of it. That's what I did twelve years ago, when my hobby was building websites and doing graphic design. Now I need a new hobby and new career! So I can like Mondays again.
Painting is an option.... suggestions on a postcard please!
Friday songs are upbeat. The weekend is on the way.
But Monday... oh dear. Monday Monday, can't stop that day. I don't like Mondays. Manic Monday. And let's not forget Blue Monday (New Order). Says it all really.
Frankly I don't like Mondays either. I get blue on Mondays. I am a classic sufferer of Mondayitis, and this is my second working Monday of 2013. I've already had enough!
This year I'm trying to only work part time; I'll be choosing my clients carefully. If someone sounds like trouble at the first conversation, I don't take on the job. My experience is that troublesome clients always want to pay as little as they can and indulge their right to change their mind often on fixed price projects.
Menopausal women can go through weird emotional and mental stages. I suspect I'm in one right now and have been for over a year. I just don't want to work. Part of that too is that I don't make much out of what I do so slogging away for nine or ten hours a day is discouraging, but the thought of going out and getting a paid job, with a supervisor/boss telling me what to do and watching how long I take for lunch, peering over my shoulder to see what I'm doing, the awfulness of KPIs and reviews, the sick feeling in the pit of the stomach when you ask for annual leave in case it gets knocked back and the unspeakable hell of workstations and shared offices... oh no, I don't want that again. No money would be enough. I'm an unemployable renegade these days.
So Mondays (like rainy days... there's a song in that!) are getting me down at the moment. I've had three weeks without work, weeks to explore painting, drawing and dressmaking/craft stuff. Fantastic weeks with little computer time. Freedom. Me time.
I'm not alone - I know that! But time was many years ago when I DID like Mondays and quite enjoyed my job. I was an employee at that stage but extraordinarily blessed with a great boss and my own office. This was in the heady days when email was just coming into regular use and didn't take up 90% of your work time. The company I worked for had a wonderful family atmosphere which changed after we were taken over; I scored a new boss who was a total control freak and sent me pretty close to a breakdown. I began to loathe my job and used to cry in the mornings as I drove to work. After that, my third control freak boss in my career, I decided enough was enough and lit out on my own.
They say that if you have a hobby you enjoy, make a career out of it. That's what I did twelve years ago, when my hobby was building websites and doing graphic design. Now I need a new hobby and new career! So I can like Mondays again.
Painting is an option.... suggestions on a postcard please!
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Life on hold
Anyway, I amused myself reading other people's blogs, working on websites, and answering the other phone. For a while I had the on-hold music in my left ear and a colleague in my right, tuning out one and listening to the other. (I really should have tuned the colleague out on reflection!)
But after a while I wanted to go to the loo. What to do, what to do? What if the help desk finally answers my call while I'm sat there? I took a punt and ran for the bathroom, portable phone in hand. Even that, an action guaranteed to make me first in the queue and be answered while I'm grabbing handfuls of loo paper, didn't get me off hold.
I searched for chords for 1920s/1930s songs for my ukulele and printed out a bunch to learn.
I finally caught up with popular culture and found out what Gangnam Style is. Watching the music clip killed 4:20 minutes and played havoc with the crappy music I was still listening to in my left ear.
After an hour and a half I was hungry. I made some coffee and ate a handful of nuts. By now I was so used to the on-hold music I would have jumped out of my skin if a real person had come to the phone.
I looked up an old boss - the stuff of nightmares. You should never look up old bosses if they were abysmal to work for. I found a photo of her, smiling and showing lots of gum and very red lips; as scary as ever in other words. She's moved to NZ now and runs a B&B as well as holding down a high powered exec job. Thank God for the rubbish on-hold music, it stopped me hearing her voice materialise in the air beside me!
And then, when I was really despairing that my call would ever make it to front of the queue, my client sent me an email with specific log in and account details and - oh glory! - they worked and I could hang up the phone without needing to talk to the help desk at all.
Seriously though, almost two hours. Have you ever been put on hold for so long?
Saturday, September 8, 2012
The diminishing dollar
I had a rather disturbing meeting with my major client earlier this week. She heads a not for profit association for which I maintain the website, create graphic and DTP documents as needed, run the marketing campaigns and press releases, and some of the admin and events. I'm assisted by her sister who applied for a traineeship with us and was awarded the role. Now her sister is gradually taking on more and more of the work as her dollar rate is far less than mine.
This role pays me about $2500 a month and with my other design work tasks few and far between right now, it's my bread and butter.
My client has now asked me to review tasks and make sure her sister and I are not doubling up. She wants me to do less and her sister more. In addition, I can't claim hours that I spend at the functions this organisation runs, where essentially I help with meet and greet, take pics etc. That's a good five or six hours a month I've lost. Since I'm only getting $27/hour (and my usual rates for graphic and web design and marketing campaigns etc are $120/hour) my dollars are diminishing.
I suspect she wants to get me down to about $1500 a month on which I can't sustain myself given my company's bills, small though they are in relative terms - about $1200/month.
Thankfully G my husband is in a good job at the moment and we are now talking about income splitting to save him some tax and give me enough money to buy groceries and pay bills, particularly when he's away, which is quite often. I still want to be able to support myself and pay my share though, however it's getting increasingly harder. I'm earning the same money I earned 25 years ago. Ugh.
If I have to cut back my hours for this NFP organisation, I can be positive: it will give me more time to paint and write, even though that won't bring in an instant income, if any!!
I have started a CafePress shop with a couple of my designs and will add one a week - well, that's the plan. I am trying to sell on Zazzle too but am having trouble uploading and getting stuff into my shop there. I will also be putting designs on Dreamstime image library and getting paid every time someone downloads one. I don't expect to earn a six figure income from this lot, but frankly anything would help right now.
And I have to plot then write a novel. I have some material for it already, based on jokey newsletters/magazines I used to create and mail to my friends in the early 90s, those pre-internet days. Now I just have to weave a story around those and create fictional characters or rather fictional versions of ourselves, and make their lives somewhat more interesting!
I was in a reasonably depressed state yesterday thinking about my lack of funds, and feeling sick at the thought of having to look for part time work outside the house to make my ends meet. More than anything I need to be successful with my own creative enterprises, not work for someone else and be worrying about whether I'm meeting KPIs and having to deal with people in my space and the subsequent interruptions that are a part of office life.
G wants me to write and is willing to help me financially with that, so I suspect that writing, drawing, painting and graphic art will be taking a bigger part of my week for the next twelve months as I really concentrate on building an income stream out of it. I'm lucky I have someone so supportive. I do hate asking him for money though; it's against my nature.
Herbert, a plea: let me be successful. Send people my way to buy the goodies my artwork will be on. Most of all, send me a bloody plot!
This role pays me about $2500 a month and with my other design work tasks few and far between right now, it's my bread and butter.
My client has now asked me to review tasks and make sure her sister and I are not doubling up. She wants me to do less and her sister more. In addition, I can't claim hours that I spend at the functions this organisation runs, where essentially I help with meet and greet, take pics etc. That's a good five or six hours a month I've lost. Since I'm only getting $27/hour (and my usual rates for graphic and web design and marketing campaigns etc are $120/hour) my dollars are diminishing.
I suspect she wants to get me down to about $1500 a month on which I can't sustain myself given my company's bills, small though they are in relative terms - about $1200/month.
Thankfully G my husband is in a good job at the moment and we are now talking about income splitting to save him some tax and give me enough money to buy groceries and pay bills, particularly when he's away, which is quite often. I still want to be able to support myself and pay my share though, however it's getting increasingly harder. I'm earning the same money I earned 25 years ago. Ugh.
If I have to cut back my hours for this NFP organisation, I can be positive: it will give me more time to paint and write, even though that won't bring in an instant income, if any!!
I have started a CafePress shop with a couple of my designs and will add one a week - well, that's the plan. I am trying to sell on Zazzle too but am having trouble uploading and getting stuff into my shop there. I will also be putting designs on Dreamstime image library and getting paid every time someone downloads one. I don't expect to earn a six figure income from this lot, but frankly anything would help right now.
And I have to plot then write a novel. I have some material for it already, based on jokey newsletters/magazines I used to create and mail to my friends in the early 90s, those pre-internet days. Now I just have to weave a story around those and create fictional characters or rather fictional versions of ourselves, and make their lives somewhat more interesting!
I was in a reasonably depressed state yesterday thinking about my lack of funds, and feeling sick at the thought of having to look for part time work outside the house to make my ends meet. More than anything I need to be successful with my own creative enterprises, not work for someone else and be worrying about whether I'm meeting KPIs and having to deal with people in my space and the subsequent interruptions that are a part of office life.
G wants me to write and is willing to help me financially with that, so I suspect that writing, drawing, painting and graphic art will be taking a bigger part of my week for the next twelve months as I really concentrate on building an income stream out of it. I'm lucky I have someone so supportive. I do hate asking him for money though; it's against my nature.
Herbert, a plea: let me be successful. Send people my way to buy the goodies my artwork will be on. Most of all, send me a bloody plot!
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Write said Fred. Or whatever my muse is called
Yesterday I took the morning off and wrote a short story.
I felt a bit guilty, but then told myself: you want to be a writer, don't you? If writing is work, don't feel bad about doing it in work time. That's what work time is for.
I have trouble writing in the evenings; morning is my most creative time. Some of my most creative fiction has been written at the workplace on the boss' time (but then I'm such a fast worker nobody ever noticed).
What a relief to actually write a story again. I've been bereft of plots for ages. It's as if my imagination has dwindled, and my sense of fun has hibernated.
Perhaps it's because I've taken two whole weekends off in a row, and given myself mental space. I've done different things: I've gone to the local show, I've been out and about on a Sunday drive around Kurrajong and Ebenezer and the countryside around Sydney's north west. I haven't spent at least half the weekend chained to the desk. Next weekend I'm going to the races at Hawkesbury. I'm starting to feel a bit more like a normal human being.
Anyway my muse - who I believe is female and may be called Fred as she's a bit quirky at times - paid me a visit and I went into a writing fugue. I came up for air sometime around 1pm feeling a bit peckish and very satisfied with an entire draft of my story written.
Re-reading it today and making some relatively minor edits, it's as good as I thought it was yesterday when I'd completed it.
Happy happy happy.
I felt a bit guilty, but then told myself: you want to be a writer, don't you? If writing is work, don't feel bad about doing it in work time. That's what work time is for.
I have trouble writing in the evenings; morning is my most creative time. Some of my most creative fiction has been written at the workplace on the boss' time (but then I'm such a fast worker nobody ever noticed).
What a relief to actually write a story again. I've been bereft of plots for ages. It's as if my imagination has dwindled, and my sense of fun has hibernated.
Perhaps it's because I've taken two whole weekends off in a row, and given myself mental space. I've done different things: I've gone to the local show, I've been out and about on a Sunday drive around Kurrajong and Ebenezer and the countryside around Sydney's north west. I haven't spent at least half the weekend chained to the desk. Next weekend I'm going to the races at Hawkesbury. I'm starting to feel a bit more like a normal human being.
Anyway my muse - who I believe is female and may be called Fred as she's a bit quirky at times - paid me a visit and I went into a writing fugue. I came up for air sometime around 1pm feeling a bit peckish and very satisfied with an entire draft of my story written.
Re-reading it today and making some relatively minor edits, it's as good as I thought it was yesterday when I'd completed it.
Happy happy happy.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
I hate the tax man. How original is that?
Yesterday I saw my accountant to sign off on my company income tax for the previous financial year. I always leave it fairly late as I never have the money to pay the poor man! (Poor? Accountant? Well, you know what I mean)
I'd given him the books two weeks ago, confident that last FY I'd made a loss. I have a client who owes me around $13000 and most of that was for last FY. As I had to spend my own company's money buying resources for her such as stock photos it was looking good for a loss.
While most of us want our businesses to prosper, I'm in the uncomfortable situation of running a business with a low turnover despite my best intentions. A good year will see a turnover of $50K, out of which I have to pay bills, tax, and wages for myself. There is nothing, repeat nothing, left in the bank at the end of each financial year - or each month come to that. I do have a good regular client who pays me on the first of each month, and that's usually around $2700, which makes up the bulk of what I earn.
Given that cash flow is so tight the last thing I want to do is make a big profit as I'll get taxed to buggery. I always try for a loss or break even.
You can imagine my despair and astonishment when my accountant told me yesterday that I'd actually made $8K the year before.
"How?" I wailed.
I'm crap at anything mathematical and not great with Excel, my chosen software for my accounts. I'd added up my sales for the four quarters but apparently missed out one of the quarters. Curses!!!!
So now the tax man is going to slug me for $2118 straight away, as well as Notional Tax for the current financial year. The tax man assumes I'm going to make the same sort of profit this year - ha! I doubt it, Ill be spending too much on taxes! - and wants $679 a quarter, When I lodge my next BAS I'll be hit with a bill for $2037 for three lots of notional tax dating from 1 July 2011.
That's $4155 I don't have. I already owe $1332 for my BAS which was due on 28 March, but have $400 in the bank so won't be paying that until 1 April.
Then there are the accountant's fees of $1850. Luckily he lets me pay this off over several months.
It's an understatement to say I am extremely depressed today. I am tempted to lock up the knives and throw the key down the drain, just to be on the safe side.
It's bloody impossible for small businesses to get ahead, it really is, with the tax man slugging you for everything he can. Especially businesses with such a small turnover as mine. I did have some money put aside for tax earlier in the year but had such a lean January I had to use it to live on and pay regular bills with.
The only thing that stops me from winding up the company and getting a 'proper' job again is that my depression at the thought of having to leave the house and animals every day, toil away in an office with other people all around me, bound by KPIs, bosses, rules and regulations, hemmed in by traffic morning and night, moves up to suicide pitch.
Come on universe, send me a nice big juicy project from a client who is prepared to pay me what I'm worth rather than screw me down to rock bottom for a first-class job. Give us a $10K project, universe! Please?
I'd given him the books two weeks ago, confident that last FY I'd made a loss. I have a client who owes me around $13000 and most of that was for last FY. As I had to spend my own company's money buying resources for her such as stock photos it was looking good for a loss.
While most of us want our businesses to prosper, I'm in the uncomfortable situation of running a business with a low turnover despite my best intentions. A good year will see a turnover of $50K, out of which I have to pay bills, tax, and wages for myself. There is nothing, repeat nothing, left in the bank at the end of each financial year - or each month come to that. I do have a good regular client who pays me on the first of each month, and that's usually around $2700, which makes up the bulk of what I earn.
Given that cash flow is so tight the last thing I want to do is make a big profit as I'll get taxed to buggery. I always try for a loss or break even.
You can imagine my despair and astonishment when my accountant told me yesterday that I'd actually made $8K the year before.
"How?" I wailed.
I'm crap at anything mathematical and not great with Excel, my chosen software for my accounts. I'd added up my sales for the four quarters but apparently missed out one of the quarters. Curses!!!!
So now the tax man is going to slug me for $2118 straight away, as well as Notional Tax for the current financial year. The tax man assumes I'm going to make the same sort of profit this year - ha! I doubt it, Ill be spending too much on taxes! - and wants $679 a quarter, When I lodge my next BAS I'll be hit with a bill for $2037 for three lots of notional tax dating from 1 July 2011.
That's $4155 I don't have. I already owe $1332 for my BAS which was due on 28 March, but have $400 in the bank so won't be paying that until 1 April.
Then there are the accountant's fees of $1850. Luckily he lets me pay this off over several months.
It's an understatement to say I am extremely depressed today. I am tempted to lock up the knives and throw the key down the drain, just to be on the safe side.
It's bloody impossible for small businesses to get ahead, it really is, with the tax man slugging you for everything he can. Especially businesses with such a small turnover as mine. I did have some money put aside for tax earlier in the year but had such a lean January I had to use it to live on and pay regular bills with.
The only thing that stops me from winding up the company and getting a 'proper' job again is that my depression at the thought of having to leave the house and animals every day, toil away in an office with other people all around me, bound by KPIs, bosses, rules and regulations, hemmed in by traffic morning and night, moves up to suicide pitch.
Come on universe, send me a nice big juicy project from a client who is prepared to pay me what I'm worth rather than screw me down to rock bottom for a first-class job. Give us a $10K project, universe! Please?
Friday, March 9, 2012
The day of living angerously
No, I do mean angerously.
You see, I have a problem with anger management, or just anger in general. There are some days I just can't cope with the constant plop of emails in the inbox, clients phoning with urgent stuff (and they are ALWAYS the slow payers who have urgent stuff), computers running slowly, computers in general sometimes.
Yesterday was one of those days. Every time the phone rang I screamed "F*ck off!" at it before I picked it up. By lunchtime I'm sure my aura was black. I had a headache, my stomach was churning, I was feeling almost physically ill. At one point I found I was strangling myself with one hand while holding the phone in the other talking to a slow payer with urgent stuff. I tend to self-harm when I'm angry and impatient; usually I bite my arm but the strangling was a new and interesting diversion.
I'm trying to finish a large project for a client who DOES pay on time and can't cope with the interruptions. I've thought of turning on 'quiet time' and not answering the phones or emails but the thought of coming back to earth to more than 100 emails and half a dozen bloody phone messages makes me feel even sicker.
To make matters worse I'm running out of hard drive space and had to compress and chuck out some files yesterday in order to download some software plugins.
Even the dog was annoying me. Every time I got up for any reason, she was underfoot, ready to trip me. I did apologise to her for shouting at her.
I know anger is bad for the body and the soul, but when I'm stressed and up against a deadline I can't help it. Meditate, friends say, but for f*ck's sake WHEN!? I didn't have time yesterday, and I can't quite get into meditation. My brain looks at it as quiet time in which it can compose a to do list.
To cut a long story short I worked from 8am to 10pm yesterday. I had minimal meal breaks and just wanted to get shit finished. I had too many phone calls including one from a colleague who likes to talk for at least an hour. I can usually work at the same time by putting the phone on hands free so that wasn't too bad. She talked for nearly two. I can't really remember exactly what about but a lot of it was going around in circles on one issue. She's a sweet person and I did try and say I was busy but finally resorted to messaging my husband asking him to ring on the home phone to get me away.
By 5pm my fury had subsided; I played a game of chasing with the cats and the dog around the house, and that made me feel brighter and better.
There are times I truly hate computers, even though I'm lucky than many and own a Mac - much less stressful than a Windows machine. There are times I truly hate the human race, because I push myself as far and fast as I can to respond to the bastard bloody clients, I go above and beyond the call of duty, and still get paid crap money or none at all (still chasing the Scarlet Pimpernel). I am soooo NOT a people person.
You'd think by the tone of this post I'm still cranky but I'm not. Just thinking about the way I was yesterday - taut as a new wire fence - is channelling what I'm typing now.
It's Friday, 4.30pm local time. I still have tons to do for clients and two big websites to complete, one of which I got a lot furiously done on yesterday, but I have had it for today. I am worried about when I'm going to get the time to work on them though as weekdays are full of interruptions, which is why I work weekends too. This weekend I have to get my quarterly tax in order, another headache. God, I hate anything to do with numbers or accounts! And data entry.
It's probably lucky in a way that we are heading to my Mum's for Saturday night and staying over, as that will get me away from computers and work for a day or so. I don't need another day like yesterday, I'm sure it took a year or two off my life. I was fortunate in retrospect I didn't have a stroke or a heart attack.
I suspect my anger-day was also weather-related. It was pelting down outside and we have had the least sunshine in the last month we have had in years. I get testy and grumpy if I don't get a bit of sunshine on me at regular intervals. I wouldn't survive a Scandinavian winter, that's for sure (wonder if the murder/suicide rate goes up in Scandinavia during winter?)
Anyway, today is better. The weather is sunny and so am I. Wonder if I could make a living out of making marmalade?
You see, I have a problem with anger management, or just anger in general. There are some days I just can't cope with the constant plop of emails in the inbox, clients phoning with urgent stuff (and they are ALWAYS the slow payers who have urgent stuff), computers running slowly, computers in general sometimes.
Yesterday was one of those days. Every time the phone rang I screamed "F*ck off!" at it before I picked it up. By lunchtime I'm sure my aura was black. I had a headache, my stomach was churning, I was feeling almost physically ill. At one point I found I was strangling myself with one hand while holding the phone in the other talking to a slow payer with urgent stuff. I tend to self-harm when I'm angry and impatient; usually I bite my arm but the strangling was a new and interesting diversion.
I'm trying to finish a large project for a client who DOES pay on time and can't cope with the interruptions. I've thought of turning on 'quiet time' and not answering the phones or emails but the thought of coming back to earth to more than 100 emails and half a dozen bloody phone messages makes me feel even sicker.
To make matters worse I'm running out of hard drive space and had to compress and chuck out some files yesterday in order to download some software plugins.
Even the dog was annoying me. Every time I got up for any reason, she was underfoot, ready to trip me. I did apologise to her for shouting at her.
I know anger is bad for the body and the soul, but when I'm stressed and up against a deadline I can't help it. Meditate, friends say, but for f*ck's sake WHEN!? I didn't have time yesterday, and I can't quite get into meditation. My brain looks at it as quiet time in which it can compose a to do list.
To cut a long story short I worked from 8am to 10pm yesterday. I had minimal meal breaks and just wanted to get shit finished. I had too many phone calls including one from a colleague who likes to talk for at least an hour. I can usually work at the same time by putting the phone on hands free so that wasn't too bad. She talked for nearly two. I can't really remember exactly what about but a lot of it was going around in circles on one issue. She's a sweet person and I did try and say I was busy but finally resorted to messaging my husband asking him to ring on the home phone to get me away.
By 5pm my fury had subsided; I played a game of chasing with the cats and the dog around the house, and that made me feel brighter and better.
There are times I truly hate computers, even though I'm lucky than many and own a Mac - much less stressful than a Windows machine. There are times I truly hate the human race, because I push myself as far and fast as I can to respond to the bastard bloody clients, I go above and beyond the call of duty, and still get paid crap money or none at all (still chasing the Scarlet Pimpernel). I am soooo NOT a people person.
You'd think by the tone of this post I'm still cranky but I'm not. Just thinking about the way I was yesterday - taut as a new wire fence - is channelling what I'm typing now.
It's Friday, 4.30pm local time. I still have tons to do for clients and two big websites to complete, one of which I got a lot furiously done on yesterday, but I have had it for today. I am worried about when I'm going to get the time to work on them though as weekdays are full of interruptions, which is why I work weekends too. This weekend I have to get my quarterly tax in order, another headache. God, I hate anything to do with numbers or accounts! And data entry.
It's probably lucky in a way that we are heading to my Mum's for Saturday night and staying over, as that will get me away from computers and work for a day or so. I don't need another day like yesterday, I'm sure it took a year or two off my life. I was fortunate in retrospect I didn't have a stroke or a heart attack.
I suspect my anger-day was also weather-related. It was pelting down outside and we have had the least sunshine in the last month we have had in years. I get testy and grumpy if I don't get a bit of sunshine on me at regular intervals. I wouldn't survive a Scandinavian winter, that's for sure (wonder if the murder/suicide rate goes up in Scandinavia during winter?)
Anyway, today is better. The weather is sunny and so am I. Wonder if I could make a living out of making marmalade?
Thursday, February 9, 2012
The waiting game
Earlier this week I put in a proposal to a local government agency. The proposal links in with existing work I'm doing for a local not for profit organisation which is completely autonomous from the local government but has agreed to host the subject of the proposal on its own website. If that sounds obtuse I apologise.
I've worked as a contractor for the not for profit for 11 years and am responsible for its website. For development and maintenance. All at bargain basement rates 'cos that's all this NFP can afford.
Now I'm worried that this tender will lead to others proposing that as part of the deal they redevelop the existing NFP's website. After all that's what I suggested in my proposal and it is seriously speccy. Lots of lovely e-commerce integration, plenty of social media to attract Gen Y and X. Realistically I told the NFP I wanted to update the website anyway and do a rebuild which would be more stable and incorporate more goodies.
This morning I had to do a presentation to the selection panel, two of whom I know well and one, the council rep, reasonably well. The council rep likes jobs for the boys, people he's worked with at a previous role with another local council. The two I know well...well, one is certainly on my side, the other can be swayed by flirtation.
The preso went well. It was more of a Q&A with them asking me questions about what my solution could do; I gave them an online demo and handled off the cuff stuff pretty well. I'm in a unique position because I not only do the creative stuff as part of my business offering but also manage the NFP in my own right.
We were supposed to hear a result by this afternoon. The successful tenderer would be contacted.
Come 5pm and no response my heart sank. Clearly I wasn't 'it'. What worried me was the potential of losing the existing web contract. If I lose it my interest in working for these guys drops below zero. If I can't control our key means of communication I may as well hand it to someone else and let them make a hash of it, not maintain it properly, pay a fortune for updates and changes.
I spent an hour seriously thinking of walking away from the NFP, which pays really shite hourly rates but it's all it can afford. It does, however, help me promote my business.
By 6.30 I had an email from the council rep - working late! good grief!- telling me they were doing more checks and he'd contact me tomorrow.
So all is not lost. I've spent the latter part of this afternoon morose and depressed thinking I've lost a key contract which is a great advert for my business... I still may have... but as Scarlett O'Hara said, Tomorrow is another day.
And the council rep told me he would be contacting the winner... not the also rans.
Fingers crossed. Another shite night's sleep coming up.
I've worked as a contractor for the not for profit for 11 years and am responsible for its website. For development and maintenance. All at bargain basement rates 'cos that's all this NFP can afford.
Now I'm worried that this tender will lead to others proposing that as part of the deal they redevelop the existing NFP's website. After all that's what I suggested in my proposal and it is seriously speccy. Lots of lovely e-commerce integration, plenty of social media to attract Gen Y and X. Realistically I told the NFP I wanted to update the website anyway and do a rebuild which would be more stable and incorporate more goodies.
This morning I had to do a presentation to the selection panel, two of whom I know well and one, the council rep, reasonably well. The council rep likes jobs for the boys, people he's worked with at a previous role with another local council. The two I know well...well, one is certainly on my side, the other can be swayed by flirtation.
The preso went well. It was more of a Q&A with them asking me questions about what my solution could do; I gave them an online demo and handled off the cuff stuff pretty well. I'm in a unique position because I not only do the creative stuff as part of my business offering but also manage the NFP in my own right.
We were supposed to hear a result by this afternoon. The successful tenderer would be contacted.
Come 5pm and no response my heart sank. Clearly I wasn't 'it'. What worried me was the potential of losing the existing web contract. If I lose it my interest in working for these guys drops below zero. If I can't control our key means of communication I may as well hand it to someone else and let them make a hash of it, not maintain it properly, pay a fortune for updates and changes.
I spent an hour seriously thinking of walking away from the NFP, which pays really shite hourly rates but it's all it can afford. It does, however, help me promote my business.
By 6.30 I had an email from the council rep - working late! good grief!- telling me they were doing more checks and he'd contact me tomorrow.
So all is not lost. I've spent the latter part of this afternoon morose and depressed thinking I've lost a key contract which is a great advert for my business... I still may have... but as Scarlett O'Hara said, Tomorrow is another day.
And the council rep told me he would be contacting the winner... not the also rans.
Fingers crossed. Another shite night's sleep coming up.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Bullet, bitten
I'm feeling a bit sick with nerves right now. I don't handle confrontation at all well and I have just set myself up for what could be a big one.
I have mentioned in earlier posts a client who owes me several thousand dollars - aka The Scarlet Pimpernel. I've still been unable to find where she lives and today's enquiries got me nowhere.
So I have this afternoon locked her out of her own websites. I expect fireworks within 24 hours. And perhaps some payment within 48 if she wants them back.
My solicitor had originally tried to go down the polite route of letters of demand, which fell on deaf ears. We have a summons we can't deliver because we don't know where this woman is on a daily basis.
So now let's see if she comes out of hiding. Oh shite.
I have mentioned in earlier posts a client who owes me several thousand dollars - aka The Scarlet Pimpernel. I've still been unable to find where she lives and today's enquiries got me nowhere.
So I have this afternoon locked her out of her own websites. I expect fireworks within 24 hours. And perhaps some payment within 48 if she wants them back.
My solicitor had originally tried to go down the polite route of letters of demand, which fell on deaf ears. We have a summons we can't deliver because we don't know where this woman is on a daily basis.
So now let's see if she comes out of hiding. Oh shite.
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