The Pinch

Lord knows the times are hard for everyone at the moment (though the local pawn broker seems to be doing a roaring trade) but for the Blake household the shit has finally hit the fan, disintegrated at speed and then ricocheted around at a full 4D 360 degrees and coated absolutely everything.

I’m not going to reveal the harrowing state of my finances in detail but as some of you know I was already scouting around for a 3rd job (on top of my full time local authority post and my part time web design business) to help cover the shortfall we were experiencing.

We seem to be one of those families that has fallen in-between the cracks of social welfare. We can’t afford to have Karen not working but neither can we afford to put Tom into full time child care if Karen works full time. Therefore Karen works part-time and Tom goes into childcare part time. Which we still can’t afford. But as we can’t afford the full time child care even more we’ve no choice... It’s not even a vicious circle. It’s just a vicious hole.

I’ve had no real luck with acquiring a third job so far though was offered a post at a school – cleaning – for 17.5 hours a week last week. Unfortunately it would have meant me leaving the house at 8.30am to fulfill my full time employment obligations, finishing at 5.30pm, walking 2 miles to the school and then working through until 9.30 at night 5 days a week.

I was sorely tempted as we need the money so badly.

Karen however put her foot down. Something about loving me and not wanting me in hospital with exhaustion by Christmas and on the mortuary slab with a heart attack by Easter 2010.

Thinking about it, I suppose, she had a point. I’d be half dead within a month and wouldn’t have seen much of my family for the duration – which at the end of the day is who I’m doing all this for.

So I turned it down.

But I’m now wondering whether I’ve looked at a gift horse in the mouth and bitten the hand that was offering me food.

My little web design business has effectively bitten the dust.

I had two regular clients whose commissions each month added about £200 to the family coffers. The first is an amateur photographer and I’d built him a site to showcase his work. The other had various recruitment web sites and supplied me with the bulk of my work. They had bloody good rates from me – a darn sight cheaper than anything a high street internet business would have offered them. And both were making a decent amount of money from their sites – in fact the recruitment people have bought themselves new premises and new sports cars... or so my insider mole has told me.

However it seems Mr Photographer has acquired a new friend who is Flashed up to the gills (I can’t afford to buy a book on Flash at the moment let alone go for retraining) and is happy to work for the fiscal equivalent of peanuts. This is fine. Mr Photographer is not a business, he’s an individual. It’s his prerogative. Though I am hurt that after a long association he hasn’t had the decency to actually tell me that he’s dropped me in favour of another web designer. Instead I’ve had to find out through a mutual friend who is as disappointed in his actions as I am.

What really cheeses me off though is that Mr Photographer has also sold this new cheaper web designer to my other clients who, being chancers of the highest order, have also dropped me – again without any notification or “thank you very much for your services but this is goodbye”. And given their untrustworthy business nature I’m now very doubtful that they’ll pay my last invoice – thankfully they’re only into me for £90 but it’s £90 I desperately need.

My family’s one and only lifeline has effectively been severed just to save someone else a few pounds.

I know. I know.

It’s business. I shouldn’t take it personally. It’s not like we had a binding contract.

But I am very upset by it all and am feeling rather defeated and shat on at the moment. Acquiring new business in the current climate is extremely difficult. Acquiring a client who requires regular work is virtually impossible. It’s a real rarity.

I have no idea what we’re going to do. It’s no longer a case of us having no money.

We have less than no money.

Our only hope now is my aunt’s will and a bunch of solicitors who are content to swim slowly through toffee to get it sorted out.

I only hope we can keep our heads above water until the lifeboats reach us...

Unforgivably Foul

I have been, it has to be said, unforgivably foul of late.

Bad tempered. Grumpy. Short fused. Liable to erupt into immense fireworks at the drop of a hat. I believe I’ve been attributed the nickname “Bird’s Nest” as a direct result of this.

Undoubtedly it’s all down to stress. Overworked. Underpaid. Pressure left right and centre. There’s nothing going on but the mortgage, food bills, energy bills, credit card bills, utility bills, child care bills... and Christmas is coming.

With typical good timing my web design business seems to be slacking of too. Work is drying up. Belts are being tightened everywhere I guess. And my efforts to find an extra part time job to beef up our income to a level somewhere above the bread-line have so far fallen on barren ground. See, things are so bad I’m even mixing my metaphors.

And should I even succeed in acquiring an extra job where on earth am I going to find the energy to actually do it? Gaah!

I’ve responded to this maelstrom of financial down-turns in a typical man-like way. Recalcitrant. Taciturn. Head down. Transferring my frustrations onto other less deserving targets – Karen, the kids, faulty household appliances, cold callers and anyone else who steps into my sights. With the exception of cold callers nobody has really deserved the amount of spleen I’ve been venting.

And I do dearly apologise.

Things have just got a bit much and the hill ahead seems somehow steeper than it used to be. I can feel my hair turning white and my mouth turning to ash...

It’s not a good look.

But anyway, the conclusion to this morning’s confessional is this: I’ve realized / remembered that the trick to surviving bad times is to focus on and preserve the good. Because the good remains and is always there. You’ve just got to keep seeing it. Karen, the kids, our home, our friends, etc...

But not the cold callers.

Never the cold callers.

Who’s The Daddy?

As some of you will be aware, in addition to my full-time local authority job (which I’m currently underpaid for – see my previous post) I also run my own part-time web design business.

It’s just a small concern – hardly a global corporation or liable to give Bill Gates any sleepless nights – but it’s all mine.

When I started it three years ago I did so with a glad and excited heart. No more working for idiots and gits, I thought to myself. I’ll be my own boss. I can do what I like and tell the twats to get lost.

Of course that isn’t the case at all. You still end up working for idiots and gits. Anybody who’ll pay you for the work basically. And while you’re producing work on their behalf the idiots and gits are still, technically, your boss.

Sigh. I never did like Status Quo.

However, after a while you begin to sort out the good clients from the bad and you start to develop a long memory and good instincts.

How does that help?

Well, I had trouble about a year ago with a real a-hole who gave me months and months of grief and hassle and actually managed to make my life a complete misery. However, I persevered and managed to build him a tiptop web site. Once it went live, however, he started being awkward about paying my invoice and quibbled over the price we’d agreed upon months in advance. This was at a time when I just did not need the extra hassle – Karen was having a difficult pregnancy and I needed my time and energies to be directed elsewhere, not chasing welshers.

Things got nasty and I came within an inch of taking him to the small claims court. But in the end, he coughed up. He paid. And he even attempted a little humility.

Yeah like whatever.

Then this week, out of the blue, he got back in touch with me. A real begging email. Seems he has loads of updates that he needs putting onto his web site but nobody wants to do the work for him.

Oh really? I wonder why?

At last, being my own boss finally came into its own. I owed him nothing. I was holding all the cards (aces naturally). And there was only one barrel and it wasn’t me that was over it.

I told him no.

Effing marvellous!

It’s a sensation that can only be matched by being the filling in a Kirstie Allsopp* and Michelle Ryan* sandwich.

*Please feel free to insert the “bread” of your choice though I don’t recommend anything too crusty...

Square One

The smell of stale disinfectant in the foyer, the glum faces of everybody I meet, the mouldy hum of my office computer all tell me that Christmas is well and truly over. I’m back at work. Back earning the crust that allows me to maintain my precarious chocolate and Lego lifestyle. Back up to my hips in leaky pipes, malfunctioning machinery and air conditioning that patently cannot or will not air condition.

And am I glad to be here? Am I f***.

I’m quite shocked at how easily I dropped all thought of work over the last 10 days. It was like it never existed. I let go of all thought of university too, my web design business, even my novel... and just wallowed in relaxation and pleasure. So easy.

And so difficult to pick it all up again this morning. Demotivated. Not a good way to start the New Year but, in a way, really quite traditional.

And I suppose it could be worse. Work has its down points certainly but it does have a few pluses too. Mainly that it allows me the time and (just) enough energy to do other creative things – like my novel and university for example; the things that keep me relatively sane when the conservators are sobbing on my shoulder about a painting that has been doused in rain water due to a leaky roof...

Normally this compromise is enough. Normally this molecularly precise balance between the good things in my life and the crud is enough to keep me on an even keel. Enough to keep me content and satisfied and functioning.

But after a long break where the crud has largely been expunged it’s hard to accept it back into my life again now that the holiday period has drawn to a close.

Why should I compromise? Why should I accept any of life’s drudgery and trash?

Because it pays the bills. It pays the bills. It pays the bills.

This is the New Year song that kick-starts every new year for every single one of us I’m sure.

And as for resolutions...

Well, I’m not a believer in compiling a foot long list of things that I know I will never accomplish.

Last year I seem to remember I kept things simple: start a novel.

I did and am now 96,000 words through it. Mission accomplished.

This year my resolution will be to finish the novel.

Mission accepted.

And in the background, the bills will all, every single one of them, get paid...

By The Power Of Greyskull

I had an interesting phone message left on my mobile yesterday from Mr CM doing his damnedest to sound all polite and matey. I must admit that as soon as I saw who it was from I deliberately didn’t answer the phone. Maybe that was cowardice but I’m having such a lovely time with my family at the moment that I’m loath to let it be polluted by unwanted external influences.

I did however listen to the message: it merely asked me to call him back regarding an email that he’d just sent to me…

Hmm. Grumble. Grumble.

So with more than a few misgivings rattling around the bell tower of my consciousness I checked my emails and sure enough there was one from Mr CM lying in my in-box like a snake in the grass.

I opened it and breathed a sigh of relief. It was nothing too major. He just wanted a little updating work doing to his site; pics of a new vehicle that he’s just bought that he wanted putting on-line "ASAP" as he’d told various companies that he associates with that his site had been updated with details of this new acquisition…

And sure I could do it. Easy-peasy. Not even half an hour’s work. One hand tied behind my back, etc…

Except that even just this one tiny communiqué from this awful man had the blood souring within my veins.

He made me wait months and months before he paid me, reneged on his promise to pay several times and ultimately made me fight to get full payment out of him at the 11th hour. And now I’m supposed to drop everything and do more work for him?

Yeah right!

Two things annoy me about his email:

(1) I emailed him weeks ago to say quite clearly that I would not be available for work once Tom was born and would in effect be taking paternity leave / a sabbatical. A reasonable statement of intent, I feel.

(2) His email clearly implies that he’d obviously assumed I’d just drop everything to do the work for him and he’s already foolishly told a load of big-shot business clients that the updates are already done.

Arsehole. Here’s egg on your face.

I’ve not responded. It might be a poor business decision but after all the grief he put me through in the run up to Tom’s birth I really don’t want to have any kind of association – business or otherwise – with Mr CM at all. It wouldn’t be worth the money even if I charged him double. So sod ‘im.

It’s actually really nice to have the power to say no and to have him at my mercy for once.

And curiously – even though it’s been well over 24 hours since he rang – he hasn’t been back in touch to follow things up. Either it’s sunk into his thick insensitive skull that I’m on paternity leave or he’s finally taken the hint that I don’t intend our business paths to cross ever again…

Pipped At The Post

No, not news of Tom's early arrival but something even more miraculous...

Mr CM has actually paid up! He left a voice message on my mobile phone while I was at Uni (excellent session by the way - think I'm really going to enjoy this course) to say he'd just put the cheque through my letterbox.

And sure enough when I arrived home there it was. The full amount, signed by his own (un)fair hand.

My gob is well and truly smacked. I didn't think this day would ever arrive.

I shall be rushing urgently to the bank tomorrow morning to get it paid in before it turns into a puff of pink smoke blasted from a goofy pixie's bottom pipe. Ker-ching!

Countdown

No, not a paean to twice-nightly Richard Whitely (alas – I’ll save that for another day) but a notification to all interested parties that baby Tom’s arrival is now a mere 7 days away.

The cot bed is ready. The pram is ready. Sleepover arrangements for Son No. 1 are set up and code green. Karen’s hospital bag (complete with food goodies to supplement the hospital slop) is all but zipped up and ready to go. The boy’s school has been notified. Work colleagues are primed. The family are on tenterhooks. The hospital is on permanent and ever-ready standby...

But I don’t feel prepared at all.

It’s weird. It’s not like I’m unaware of what is about to happen (hey, for a guy that’s a big thing) it’s just that I can’t seem to make it feel real. Life at the moment is carrying on much as it always has and all seems perfectly normal. I can’t imagine how things are going to look and feel next week with our family increased to 4 at all.

As this is Karen’s second I guess she has a better idea of what to expect but me – I’m blissfully ignorant. I guess it’s going to be something of an adventure... one that’s going to last a lifetime. But hey – what other kind is there?

I must admit though I’ll be glad when the hospital bit is over – to have Karen and Tom and the boy all safely home again with our feet resting on a big pile of dirty nappies, necking down a cup of tea and wondering if we’ll ever sleep through the night again. That seems a long way off at the moment.

In the interim I’m back at Uni this week – tomorrow in fact: Poetry In English Since 1945. A little bit more up my street after the interminable ravages of the 18th Century novel last term. And a countdown of a different sort is also occurring. The promised money from the untrustworthy Mr CM has until Friday to arrive. Still no sign of it.

My money’s on Tom arriving first...

Rough

Apologies for the delay in posting - for some reason Blogger has been experiencing one or two technical problems and as a result I've been unable to publish sweet FA since the weekend.

Below is the post that I've been trying to publish since Monday morning...

It’s been something of a rough few days.

Karen and I had to head over to the hospital Sunday evening as baby Tom was unusually quiet – enough to get us both quite worried. As soon as we arrived Karen was wired up to a scanning machine for 20 minutes and I’m relieved to say that all proved to be well. Not only that but there are early indications that Tom might try and pre-empt the date set for his Caesarean (9th October)...

We no sooner arrived back home than I found a telephone message from my mother reporting that my granddad had suffered a fall – a result of a high fever and an ulcerated leg – and had been admitted into the very hospital that Karen and I had just come back from! He had a comfortable night but unfortunately took a turn slightly for the worst yesterday. He's reacted against the anti-biotics they've pumped him full of and is now suffering from diarrhoea and an infection.

There was utterly no communication from Mr CM over the entire weekend. To tell you the truth it was no more than I expected and I’d had an email to him drafted up since Saturday morning informing him of my intention to take him to the Small Claims Court if I didn’t receive full payment in 7 days. I was then going to add the court costs onto the amount owing...

As it was, I received a telephone call from him yesterday at the 11th hour - a much more polite and "hey buddy" type of call than Friday's frosty dialogue - and he appeared to completely capitulate. He's asked me to divide the invoice into two separate ones and send a copy of one to himself and the other to his business partner (they're splitting the cost 50/50) and they'll see that I'm paid within the next 7 days.

Hmm. I'm not getting my hopes up too much but my instincts are that my strong stance on Friday may have moved the mountain... I'll wait and see. I've kept a copy of the draft email just in case. It may yet get an airing!

Talking of ignorant and annoying people – I never did hear anything more from the hack from the London Standard so can only assume that the piece I wrote about Nigella was either never used or was used but they couldn’t be arsed to tell me or send me a copy. Either way I’m pretty cheesed off though more disappointed with the lack of manners than the lack of publishing credit.

But as I’ve been feeling as rough as a badger’s arse for the last two days anyway I’ve consoled myself with a couple of sick days off work and have been recuperating by reading, watching TV and generally bumbling around the house in a warm and comfortable fugue… It’s actually been quite blissful.

Look Back In Anger

Yet more shenanigans with Mr Chauffeur Man today. The deadline for payment has passed and he’s still not paid me for the web site I designed and built for him. Bear in mind the site has now been live for nearly 3 months and he’s been impressed with it enough to pay for a big, fat, juicy ad in the local paper this week advertising it to all and sundry.

So I girded my young and tender loins and rang him. I’ve had enough of ignored emails and the like.

The man is the most insulting, patronizing, arrogant git I’ve ever met.

He now doesn’t think the web site is worth the £510 bill. He wants to pay me somewhere between £400 and £450.

Oh really!

This despite the fact the hourly rate was agreed at the beginning and I have two emails from him agreeing to pay my £510 invoice. This despite the fact that as a goodwill gesture I did a little extra work on the site for him a couple of weeks ago and didn’t add it to the invoice. Am I a mug or what?

I stood my ground and though I was fuming I’m glad to say I resisted the temptation to get personal. I pointed out that he agreed to the hourly rate and that I’ve kept every email from him regarding payment. I also pointed out rather tartly that his £500 web site would have cost him well over £2000 on the High Street.

I must have sounded pretty riled as he did appear to back down. He said he’d speak to his business partner and then ring me this afternoon before 5pm to “tell me their decision”; and he would bring a cheque round this evening which I could pay straight into the bank – “happy days,” so he said.

However, whether it’ll be for the full amount remains to be seen.


I’ve already decided not to accept anything but full payment. Unless I receive the full amount today I’ll be taking him to the Small Claims Court and will be advising him of that fact.

Of course my other option is to just pull the site and though it is tempting it’s (a) bad for business and (b) runs the likelihood that he’ll merely go elsewhere and I’ll still be out of pocket for 34 miserable hours of sweat, toil and more trouble than it was ever worth.

It’s rare I use the C word about anybody. But Mr CM is undeniably the biggest C I’ve ever come across.

Regardless of the final outcome; we will NOT be doing business again.

Doctor Yes Mister No

I’ve had the day off work today to accompany Karen to the hospital for a final scan of baby Thomas. I’m pleased to report that both mother and baby are progressing well and all is on target for Tom’s emergence on October 9th via caesarean section. If it’s good enough for an emperor of Rome it’s good enough for us…

The two-week limit I set my non-paying web client is now up and Mr Chauffeur Man still hasn’t coughed up the dough he owes me. Cue a short but civil email to him this morning that can best be described as “tart”.

Unless his business account is lodged with Northern Rock I’ve requested that the invoice be settled by Friday…

After that the gloves are off.

Movements

Rumours abound this week that Dominatrix of Dieting, Gillian McKeith has been dropped from Channel 4 like a lead jockstrap. Apparently her Third Reich tactics and blitzkrieg nutritional regime have appalled even the most iron stomached of Channel 4’s TV executives who are now of the opinion that Ms McKeith is simply just too cruel and needlessly harsh in her patented weight loss techniques to be allowed onto the nation’s tellies.

About time too. I can hear Gillian’s shrivelled bones circling the S-bend of television world even as I type.

Not that I’m taking credit, you understand, but this here blog has thrown a couple of good slaggings her way in the past; notably here, here and here...

And now for a movement of a different sort: I actually heard from Mr Chauffeur man yesterday. A very polite and respectful email promising to get payment to me ASAP. I was pleasantly gobsmacked.

About time too yet again.

Though I’m very aware that it might be wise not to count this particular chicken until it’s hatched...

Heroes

Over the last few weeks the BBC's new super series Heroes has impinged rather pleasantly and gently on my psyche – and Karen’s too. Sure there’s been hype about it but, to me at least, it’s felt restrained and controlled. None of the unhinged hysteria that normally accompanies the “next big thing”.

It’s weird discovering which of the characters appeals most to friends and family – it’s like they’re some sort of astrological archetype. Ah, you were born in the year of the Hiro. You have a strong desire to stop the merry-go-round and get off. You like things to be arranged nicely in the nick of time.

Hiro Nakamura certainly possesses Karen’s hero ability of choice and I can definitely see the advantage of being able to stop time and space around you. The possibilities would be endless. You would be able to do anything. Take a few hours sleep whenever you felt like it – nobody would know. Enjoy the countryside and then return to your workstation with no-one none the wiser. For some reason it feels quite a grown up, logical, well thought out choice and fair play to Karen for leaning in that direction.

For my part I must confess to liking the (perhaps traditional) ability of Nathan Petrelli – the power of self propelled flight. I’m aware that I’m imposing some sort of hierarchy on the heroes’ superpowers but the power of flight – or rather the desire for it – seems to have a more day-dreamy, childish appeal; it feels less grown up than being able to manipulate space-time. We all have dreams of flying and most of us at some point secretly wonder how it would feel to be able to fly. Stopping the space time continuum seems very sciencey by comparison. I guess I’m saying I’m more of a dreamer than someone who has a desire to meddle with the metaphysics of the universe.

Like I said: astrological archetypes. I was obviously born in the year of the flying pig. Or the cloud cuckoo.

I do however have a sneaky admiration for the “power” (if you can call it that) of Niki Sanders. Although having a super-strong and totally ruthless alter ego seems quite sinister and disturbing on the face of it I can see the advantage of being able to switch to a more calculating, fearless, Machiavellian mode of behaviour when circumstances demand it. My God, I could use some of that right now in my dealings with my little clique of nefarious web clients. I guess my sneaky admiration has its root in the simple fact that I’m not particularly ruthless or confident in my dealings with other people – for all I may come over all bolshi and strident on this blog.

It would be nice to be able to kick ass occasionally.

So. All this begs the question: which superhero are you and why?

Grasping The Nettles

I’ve made a last ditch attempt to get the money I’m owed from Mr Chauffeur Man. His web site has been live for nearly two months now and I still haven’t seen a penny of the £500 that I invoiced him for. On the advice of my friend, Tris, I’ve kept things nice and polite and given him 2 weeks to settle. More than reasonable I think.

However, given that I only ever hear from him when he’s got a complaint or a gripe and then have to put up with an arsey and offensive tone of voice for the duration of the call it’s taken a surprising amount of willpower for me to open up this one line of communication. If truth be known I want this person out of my life ASAP and then never to hear from them again.

But first though I want to be paid! Karen starts her maternity leave on Friday and our belts are going to be cinched damn tight. I just can’t afford to write off £500!

If he doesn’t pay then for the first time ever I think I’m going to have to play hardball and threaten to pull his site. I’ve joked about doing such things in the past (on this here blog) but to really do it feels quite scary. Crossing the Rubicon, I guess. Once I do that then things will get nasty and possibly end up at the small claims court. I’d much rather things were concluded with a modicum of goodwill on both sides.

Onto other matters... and a nettle of a different sort...

What do you do when you discover that one of your regular clients (effectively your bread and butter earner) is plagiarizing other web sites left, right and centre to add content to their own? I’ve had my suspicions for a while but now a little bit of internet research has provided proof... news items nicked word for word from other web sites; technical queries and advice lifted verbatim from an on-line technical advice forum and then pasted as coming from the mouth of one of their own “leading technical experts”... (a man who has trouble with a hot water kettle), fictional awards presented by themselves to themselves in a desperate bid to look legitimate...

It would be almost laughable if it wasn’t so horribly crass.

Thankfully most of this content bypasses me and goes straight into their on-line web magazine which is hosted and engineered by another company but I’m sure this company would not be happy to learn that they are a party, no matter how unwittingly, to intellectual theft.

The question is: what do I do? Do I broach the subject with my clients? Inform this other third party company of what is going on?

I’d effectively be putting my clients out of business.

Or do I just continue to keep my head down and my nose clean as much as I can?

Show Me The Money

Yesterday my oldest friend, Tris, popped up to Leamington for a quick whistle-stop visit and we managed to take time out from our glamorous weekend routines to grab a quick coffee in town.

Tris and I have known each other since we were 7 or 8 years old, more or less, so it’s fair to say that nobody knows me as well as Tris – not counting Karen that is; I do think that to really know someone you have to live with them.

Anyway, we had a lot of catching up to do and amid the domestic tale telling I filled Tris in on my current web design business woes – Mr Chauffeur Man still hasn’t coughed up the £500 he owes me. Tris was very complimentary about the chauffeur site – something I very much needed to hear after last week’s attacks by Mr Anonymous / Mr Web Designer – and also revealed that if the site had been designed and built by the company he works for in London they would have charged a cool £30,000 for it!

My jaw dropped open so fast I think I dislocated it and left a permanent notch in the table.

I must point out that Tris works for Saatchi & Saatchi so he’s quoting S&S prices. But even so…

I’m beginning to wonder if maybe, just maybe, I’m selling myself a little bit short…

Planet Steve

I feel a little bit calmer after the histrionics of the weekend though the whole thing has left a bad taste in my mouth. I’m not sure why it got to me so much. Usually I snarl back and then let it go; move on... but I felt quite poisoned by ‘Saturday’s event’.

I’m sure a lot of it is due to high stress levels at the moment – Karen’s pregnancy is totally exhausting her, I’m under extra pressure at work due to the extended clean-up operation after the flood, I’m still receiving hassles but no money from my horrible web site clients, a shedload of money/mortgage worries, broken sleep... gah! All of it has conspired to make me hyper sensitive and all too easily knocked off my feet by the slightest motion. Planet Steve feels in danger of shattering like a cut glass goblet at any moment. One high C and crash tinkle tinkle smash.

I guess I need to focus on the positive though. Karen is beginning her maternity leave at the end of August – so barely 2 weeks to go and she can rest properly. Her bosses have also been very understanding and supportive which has been a great help. I’ll be a lot happier knowing that she’s resting at home next month I must admit rather than flogging herself at work to the point of collapse. Work and pregnancy are plainly not a great combination for her!

As for my horrible client. Well... it’s been a steep upward curve. It’s taught me a lot about what not to do and who not to work for. Most of all it’s taught me to never ever doubt my gut instincts. Most of all it’s taught me that money should never be the deciding factor in anything. There’s very little I can do now to the site – the last hurdle is just getting the money out of the client and then I can shut my doors on the whole situation for good. I can’t effing wait.

The comments of Mr Anonymous have had one positive effect: they’ve made me review the work I produce and made me decide to be a lot more careful about how I pitch it and who I pitch it to in future. I can’t compete with the big boys and I think it’s important I acknowledge that to myself and to future clients. The people I want to deal with want something modest and affordable – not huge, corporate looking, data collecting web site behemoths. There’s a niche in the market for what I can offer and as long as my clients are happy with what I produce I don’t see that anybody else need throw their opinion into the mix.

Mortgage worries.... Geez. Don’t we all have them? After a good discussion about it all with Karen over the weekend I’m going to shop around and speak to a few banks. See if I can reschedule some loan repayments to free up some income – enough to ensure we have a decent safety margin should interest rates leap up another notch (which seems likely). Where to start is beyond me though. I find the world of finance and banking something of a turn-off and as a consequence my knowledge of such things is minimal.

So, things might still be a bit overcast on Planet Steve but I’m going to do my damnedest to encourage clear, blue skies and green horizons... if I can’t do that then I shall at the very least invest in some decent wellies.

Attacked

I must admit to feeling quite upset this morning.

God knows we all receive negative comments every now and then and most of the time I hope that when they come my way I take them on the chin when they're deserved and give as good as I get when I think they're not.

This morning, however, I awoke to some comments on my blog which felt like personal attacks. I didn't publish them as they were from the ever misanthropic anonymous: although one did have the startling nom de plume "a web designer" it was fairly obvious they were all from the same person.

Basically the web sites I design are "bad" and my writing it seems isn't up to much cop either. It seems also that I'm not funny, though in brackets Mr Anon was keen to point out that I myself obviously think that I am.

I'm still wondering if I made the right decision by not publishing them - maybe I should have let you all read them too? As it was I decided to stick to my guns: no anonymous posts get published on my blog. Plus I didn't want to resurrect the upset they engendered in me every time I re-read them. I don't need that kind of crap in my life... so click. They're gone.

Part of me suspects they were a personal attack from someone who knows me. Part of me wonders if maybe I'm just hoping that's true so that it in someway invalidates what they said.

Anyway, a healthy stint in the garden - lawn mowing and the like - has righted my keel a little more now but that cloud of upset remains over me.

Maybe my web sites are bad? Certainly I acknowledge that they cannot compete with stuff you'd have designed for you by a huge company: I work alone and my knowledge base is therefore tiny in comparison. However, this is reflected in the prices I charge and I believe they are more than fair. Whatever, once the price has been agreed between me and the client that is the end of it. I deserve to get paid when the work is done. And I believe I have a perfect right to complain when this doesn't happen (the insinuation was that I had no right to the complaints detailed in the previous post).

And maybe my writing is bad too? That's a difficult one to answer. I can after all only write as I do. And I'm glad (arrogant maybe) to say that I've had far more people offer praise than criticism - though the latter I am always hungry for when it is constructive and helpful. Comments that I am "lame" and "not funny" aren't really helpful at the end of day. That's a subjective response. Sure you're entitled to feel that way Mr Anon but rather than leave a snide comment about it why don't you take your reading abilities elsewhere?

Ultimately Mr Anon, I wonder what the point of your comments were. To cause upset? To make yourself feel superior for a moment or two? Hey I can sympathise. I'm sure I'm guilty of such things myself some of the time. We all are.

Just don't do it on my blog. This is a forum for me to expunge my dirt. Not yours. And I believe that here I can write whatever the hell I like...

Terms And Conditions

Some of you may remember my rant a few weeks back about how a couple of clients from my web design business were cheesing me off so much I was going to give them two month’s notice before I withdrew my services... Well, I’m in the last stages of extracting myself from their irritating business embrace and they are STILL driving me up the flaming wall. I’m actually very close to the point of telling them to P off completely and to just cut my losses. However, the single fact that they owe me over £500 in unpaid fees is a difficult one to walk away from - especially when money is so tight at the moment (interest rates screwing up the mortgage, etc).

And so the business relationship limps on for a few more painful weeks. And all the while my stress levels and blood pressure continue to rise.

In a bid to massage myself back into a state of relaxation and carefree bonhomie I’ve decided to compile some terms and conditions for dealings with future clients. Actually it was Karen’s idea and after the experiences of this year I think it’s a good one.

Anyway, the T’s & C’s below aren’t actually the official ones that will be used by my business, Brighter Web Design, but they are the ones that I shall be referring to mentally whenever I meet with new clients...

Terms And Conditions

1) You will not take 5 months to get your business material to me and then complain that the web site isn’t moving fast enough.

2) You will not ring me up late on a Sunday evening or pre 7 am on a Monday morning and expect me to drop everything just to put something new on-line for you because you have some “important clients” viewing the site today.

3) You will not change your mind constantly about web content and then insinuate that it is me messing you around.

4) You will not submit material composed by yourself or a colleague and once it is on-line then complain that it misrepresents you or makes you look unprofessional. Point of note: only you make you look unprofessional.

5) You will not withhold payment for 2 months once the site is live and generating business for you and insinuate that you are not getting value for money, especially when your £500 web site would have cost you £2000 on the High Street. Until you pay for it, the site is not yours.

6) You will not have the cheek to try and charge me money for putting my name as a link on a web site that I have designed (and you have not paid for) and insinuate that I am taking you for a ride or acting unprofessionally. Such copyright acknowledgments are industry standards and to my knowledge are not chargeable! There is such a thing as business courtesy. Please familiarise yourself with it.

7) You will not deny me the right to refer to the site on my own on-line portfolio with the insulting excuse that it makes your site look bad and your “multi national, multi billionaire clients” wouldn’t be interested in hiring me anyway. My on-line portfolio is not for your clients; it’s for MINE. If you don’t want your clients to know that you’re a cheapskate who paid for a cut price web site that’s your problem. Or I’m happy to charge you triple.

8) I do not respond well to bullshit, self inflating hyperbole and vague promises of how good/professional you are. Show me the money or shove off.

9) I am web designer. I do not sort out problems with your PC/palm pilot.

10) If I don’t like you, I’m not working for you. Period.


Oooh. I feel better already.

Grumbles

I’m feeling very out of sorts today. Too much stress and pressure being the major contributors.

I seem to have landed myself and my web design business with a couple of real a-hole clients. I won’t go into detail other than to say they are some of the most ignorant, feckless, arrogant, down-right rude people I have ever had to deal with.

I’m now at the stage where I’ve decided that the extra money their work generates just isn’t worth the hassle and trauma that inevitably comes with it. The whole idea of working for myself was to get away from working for idiots.

Anyway, though I could potentially be committing financial suicide (well, not quite – I still have my day job) I’ve decided to give these troublesome clients 2 month’s notice before I withdraw my services. I need and want to spend more time with my family – especially Karen who’s undergoing a very exhausting pregnancy.

The loss of earnings will be painful. But already I feel so much happier in myself, it’s unbelievable.

I’m counting down the days already.

Hi Jack

Forgive the lack of recent posts – I’ve been up to my eyeballs in work (still finishing off the chauffeur car web site as well as holding down my day job) plus Karen and I also spent Saturday visiting her mother in Cookham. Unfortunately a “nice day visiting granny” tends to be a case of walking on eggshells because she’s so cantankerous and foul tempered. It’s not my intention to go into detail about it here as it wouldn’t be fair but suffice to say she suffers from a genetic illness whose symptoms and treatment only augment her natural disposition to be argumentative.

Hence Karen, the boy and I spent the entire day treading gingerly and bracing ourselves for explosions of irrational belligerence and unjustified antagonism. We all survived but the upshot is we all ended up feeling totally exhausted and wiped out. And it takes us all several days to recover. It’s like having your life momentarily taken over by a bad vibe.

Which is a shame because “visiting granny” should never be like that and Karen and I both feel that the boy misses out by not having a traditional, warm, ever-patient granny to indulge him.

Ho hum. But what can we do? Sigh.

Onto other things. The weekend was redeemed a little for Karen and I by an excellent episode of Jekyll. Nesbitt’s portrayal of both Dr. Jackman/Jekyll and Billy/Mr Hyde gets better and better. The pacing of the episode was first class and beautifully plotted to keep the build up of tension at excruciating levels. Expectations were constantly created, played around with and undercut. It created a relentless pressure-cooker effect and gave me stomach cramps. But hey – maybe I’d just overeaten?

Best of all Benjamin (alias Paterson Joseph) got gorily dispatched about three quarters of the way through. A quick flick of a knife and he’s spewing claret from the second mouth that Mr Hyde has opened up halfway down his throat. Nice. Anything that permanently halts that fake American grin is fine by me.

Nesbitt’s Hyde teeters just on the right side of comic, i.e. blackly humorous but not ridiculous. His grin reminds me of the shark from Finding Nemo which is probably an odd reference point to make but what the hell. There is something likable about Hyde. You want him to win. But you also want Dr Jackman to survive too. With the two being mutually exclusive it’s going to be an interesting final three episodes.

Talking of which... the BBC programming schedule throws a spanner into the works yet again. Jekyll has built itself up to fever pitch, the momentum has been primed and teased to perfection by Steven Moffat’s writing... and the BBC pull the episode of Jekyll next week in favour of the Live Earth music concert. And everything deflates... pzzzzzzzsssst!

Yeah yeah. I’m sure it’s for a good cause. Saving planet earth and all that.

But I hate having my expectations hijacked. It makes me very angry, daddy. Very angry indeed...

House Of Cards

After spending a small fortune – well, ok, just merely a few quid – getting some business cards printed for my fledgling web design business I’ve spent the last few days trotting around my home town of Leamington Spa, trying to offload some of my newly minted wares onto the counters of the friendly shop keepers that make up the business sector of dear old Leamo...

And aside from one shop (where I personally knew one member of staff) all of them replied in the negative. No you cannot display your flea-bitten cards here. No can do. Clear off.

It’s very demoralizing.

I realize it is of course the prerogative of every business owner to choose who, how and what they display in their own shops in the way of advertising but I can’t help feeling a mite peed off about it all. It really felt like a long line of doors being slammed shut in my face. One after the other. Bang bang bang.

Thanks for nothing, guys.

Welcome to the cut throat world of small business.

Blooming Marvellous

It’s midweek and despite feeling shattered I’m in a pretty good mood.

Karen paid a visit to the midwife yesterday. She’s making weekly visits now so that the midwife can listen to the baby’s heartbeat. I’m glad to say that a very strong, very regular whooshing noise could be heard and all indications are that the pregnancy is progressing well. Obviously after losing the baby last year we’re both experiencing frequent bouts of anxiety over this one and it’s nice to have such regular reassurances from the midwife.

Karen is certainly starting to look very pregnant now and is exhausted by her normal working day. By choice she’s continuing to work for a few more months and then will take off a good year or so after the baby is born to recover. It’s going to mean tight times ahead but it will undoubtedly be worth it.

On the novel front things are also progressing well. I’m now writing chapter 5 and am a healthy 24,812 words into it. My mate, Tris, thinks I’m making good progress from this statistic but having previously only written and published poetry I’m finding it hard to judge the novel’s development. I guess all I can do is plough ahead and try to write as best I can. Sounds a rather mawkish and overly simplified approach but it seems to be working so far.

I took the speculative step of getting some business cards printed up for my web design business this month too. I’ve now taken delivery of 500 self-designed business cards which I shall be releasing into the world forthwith. Hopefully some local computer retailers will see fit to display my sumptuously designed calling cards and then I can sit back and watch as a host of work offers don’t flood in...

And finally Karen and I have booked our summer holiday. We deliberated and cogitated over a week in Paris. We ummed and ahhed over renting a cottage not far from Nantes. But in the end decided on a week in Marazion in Cornwall and have rented a lovely little cottage overlooking the sea. France would have been nice but Karen will be heavily pregnant by then and not up to the discomfort of overnight ferry rides... and to ensure her comfort with a cabin inflated the price of the holiday way beyond the reach of our meagre budget. The train to Paris would have been better but in the end we decided we wanted a relaxing outdoor holiday as opposed to being swept up in the madness of a city. Albeit a very cultured and beautiful one.

So Cornwall it is and France can wait until next year. Or at least until my finances are healthy again!

Kerching!

Thankfully there’s been some movement on the money-owed-to-me situation. I received an apologetic email last night and a promise that the cheque can be cashed without problem and the rest of the payment will be with me shortly.

I should cocoa.

The horse I bought is looking much relieved and I can at last stop sounding like some sort of Victorian debt collector.

“I don’ts cares how many brats you gots living in ee-ah, dahlin, youse ain’t paid yer rent so youse ain’t stayin. Sling yer bleedin hook, luv!”

Ah… a wasted job opportunity methinks.

Taking The P

Following on from last week’s tirade against those who owe me money a comic / irritating incident occurred last Friday evening.

There I am, sitting in the splendor of my home office when I hear the rap of the letterbox. Looking out of the window I spy one of my debtors / clients racing back to a car noisily revving its engine in the street outside my house. A slam of the car door, a crunch of gears and off they roar in a cloud of BMW fueled testosterone-exhaust. And I definitely mean it that way round.

At last, thinks I, payment has been delivered unto me! And off I jolly well trot downstairs to check out the cheque.

Imagine my chagrin then to discover that (a) the cheque only covers the amount of one of the TWO overdue invoices and (b) the cheque is dated 16th APRIL 2007.

My first impression was that I’d effectively been given a worthless bit of paper and therefore still haven’t been properly paid. My second impression was one of deep personal insult. Evidently in terms of settling up their accounts I’m right down the bottom of the list and they obviously feel it’s perfectly acceptable to mess me about.

Now I could pay in the cheque as, given the automated nature of banking these days, they wouldn’t even look at the date… however, if the cheque bounces I incur a fee.

In the larger scheme of things this is only a small thing to gripe about but when I’ve spent the last two months prioritizing their (often tedious) work and meeting their company deadlines in order for them to make money it’s a real kick in the teeth to be treated like this.

To my mind it’s damned unprofessional.

I need to get me some other clients and kick these cowboys into touch.

In the meantime I’ve sent them a rather “cool” email voicing the hope that the rest of the payment will be on its way to me soon.

Does anybody know where I can purchase a horse’s head?

Bad Debtors

It’s rare that I gripe about monetary matters on this blog but today I’m feeling particularly nettled.

As well as working full time the local government authority in Leamo (and writing a novel in my spare time), I also have my own part time web design business. It’s been going about a year and although it’s not destined to expand to the point of ever getting into legal wrangles with huge eff-off companies like SKY or Virgin it does make the mortgage easier to pay and allows me to occasionally treat myself to a luxury item or two to make all this hard work seem worthwhile. It also allows me to pay off the various bills and sundries that the modern age seems to offload onto most of us.

Or at least it does when I get paid.

I know that all freelancers have great difficulty getting their customer to cough up the cash but it’s bloody annoying when I can’t pay my debts cos someone won’t pay the debt they owe me.

Karen feels I should get tough. Down tools until I get paid. I must admit I’m probably less business minded than she is – and possibly more of a wuss – so I have tried to avoid taking this nastier stance. I mean, such games of one-upmanship could lead to the clients getting arsy and heading elsewhere and STILL not paying me.

But given that I’m now owed over £600 and payment is virtually 3 month’s late I’m beginning to think that I have very little to lose.

I hate getting all hardnosed about it but they’re now COSTING me money rather than just denying me my due.

You know who you are. Pay up or I’ll stick the boot in!

Ok. Gripe over.

Plug

It is totally without shame that I hereby gratuitously plug my latest web site venture...

I have the singular honour of being the web engineer who has but recently built the html glory that is Photovertex on behalf of my good friend, Mr Paul Washer, photographer and social wit extraordinaire.

Ladies and gentlemen, fanfares please.

Sneaky Santa

Christmas seems to have snuck up on me this year like an absurdly dressed mugger. Not a bad analogy considering how much moolah I’ve been haemorrhaging over the past month. Every year I come up with this ridiculously hopeful budget that I have every intention of sticking to... and then blow it all in the first week. Even if I’d doubled my “Crimbo Budget” for this year I still would have ended up in the red (ho ho ho).

I just hate the thought of scrimping on pressies for Karen and Ben. There is nothing worse than opening your own gifts on Christmas morning and seeing how much money and care your loved ones have lavished upon you and then secretly cursing yourself for not buying that diamante necklace for your partner or that £6000 bucket of Lego for your kid... why oh why did I do my entire Christmas shop at TK-Max?

Thankfully I’ve been a darn sight more upmarket than TK-Max and hopefully Karen and Ben will be chuffed to pieces with what I’ve got them.

Anyway, today has been the first day that I’ve actually felt Christmassy. I’ve felt completely out of kilter with the festive season over the last two weeks – mainly because of the volume of work coming my way through my Brighter Web Design business. I honestly felt like I was drowning at one point... but feel a lot better now for putting my foot down. I’ve informed my clients that as from this Friday I am taking a 10 day break. Almost immediately I could feel my shoulders lifting and the fugue in my brain clearing and a desire to hear sleigh-bells in the bedroom... but hey, let’s leave Christmas themed roll-play out of this for the time being.

It’s weird. Suddenly it is Christmas. For real. And I feel totally subsumed with the holiday spirit. All of which is bad news for my day-job bosses as I have utterly no intention of doing any real work at all this week.

Ha ha ha!

Fatty Gay

No. Not a reference to Johnny Vegas suddenly announcing a highly unlikely swing to the homo side of the street but instead a play on the French word for fatigue...

Yes, I’ve been burning the candle at both ends so much over the last few days that it now resembles Darth Maul’s light sabre. Only without all the balletic wrist-twirling, jump-kicking and grimacing.

Well actually there’s been lots of grimacing. My face has been pressed to the grindstone so much that if I were a CB radio ham my handle would undoubtedly be The Grindstone Cowboy...

Swamped by crap in my day job, my burgeoning web design business has also been hotting up so much that I’ve effectively been working 12 hour days for most of this week. I’m amazed at how dour “all work and no play” makes me. Christmas seems another world away rather than another week away.

Still things should slack off by the weekend and I can try at last to regain my Christmas spirit and joi de vivre.

After all there’s no point being a humbug at Christmas time if you haven’t got the energy to enjoy it.