I evidently got canned from a weekly job I'd been doing for a well-paying, but notoriously difficult-to-please client for the past six months or so. So lofty are their standards, in fact, that they provided the impetus for my Gallery Of Rejected Sketches, after passing on eight reasonably viable roughs I submitted for a 2" x 2" spot, a while back.
Four sketches into a job I'd been working on, they pulled the plug on the piece, which was fine- I was overbooked this week anyway, and was frankly relieved a.) not to have to continue to submit random, clueless sketches for a cryptic, two-line synopsis of a story, and b.) not to have to do the finish, which was due at about 8 the next morning. While this client pays nicely for a final, their kill fee rate is a miserly 30%, and at the end of a 16-hour day, I fired off a testy e-mail to the AD, along with a bill for 50%, and a paragraph explaining why I thought their 30% rate was for the birds, how 50% was industry standard, and that the actual "work" in working for them was just getting a sketch approved. Then I stumbled over to the couch for a few fitful hours of sleep.
I woke up, thought, uh oh, and tried to make nice with a clumsy, conciliatory follow-up which said, in effect "Hey, I was just kiddin, ha ha! 30% is fine. Uh, we're still cool, right?" They didn't respond to that e-mail, and Thursday came and went without a phone call, an assignment or any of the other things I'd come to associate with working for them.
So, I guess the moral of story is, don't fire off testy e-mails to ADs at the end of 16-hour days, decrying their policies. Had I the benefit of a couple hours of sleep in my skull, I just wouldn't have sent the e-mail at all, and I would've adhered to that age-old adage, The Customer Is Always Right, and gone about my bidness.
Well, I'm off to knock a couple back, and to think up new ways to burn bridges and alienate longstanding clients.
I never know why clients pick certain ideas over others. Sometimes they pass up some decent ones, though.
I always like to imagine that someday I'll arrive at the point where I can just dash off some e-mail that says, "Gentlemen: here is the sketch I'll be doing", and then I can fly to Bratislava or perhaps Contiki, have a spot of tea and write my memoirs, or stroll around in a smoking jacket and an ascot; aquire a collection of fine wristwatches.
In the meantime though, sometimes I'll pull one of the also-rans off the assembly line, set it aside and say, "I'm gonna do this one anyway, just for the hell of it", although I never actually do.
For the record, a more high-falutin Flash version of this sentiment can be found on my site, with the understanding that I'm defining "site" as a loosely-related framework of mostly non-functioning pages.
Are you trembling yet? No? Well, that's because I haven't related my story of the grave insult I received at the hands of a callous Barista, yesterday. Or discussed, at length, the pros and cons of facial hair. Or bared my innermost thoughts on the subject of quality footwear.
I've studied with some of the top blogging masters the world over, and I swear to hold a nation spellbound, now that I've finally found the perfect forum through which to channel my Blog Fu. Oh yes: like it or not, soon the world will learn my strange and terrible secrets.
Well, soonish, anyway.