Monday, May 15, 2006

relative values

Money is so insane.
I pay $200 for a doctor's visit that took fifteen minutes and doesn't involve (in the moment) any particular skill--I mean, a sushi chef could have lopped off my mole, lanced the infection.
$200 for 15 minutes = $800 an hour.

I remember being asked to find a Burberry raincoat, size 2, for one of my former's boss's girlfriends. Said raincoat cost about $2,000.

I got a gig I was excited about--writing a piece for my former place of work. The assignment gave me a week's deadline,(which is an incredibly short turnaround, considering I had to drive to SF, interview the artist, look at and analyse the work, transcribe the interview, and write the article) and I worked for a solid week--oh, let's say about 20 hours, after work and on weekends, on a freelance article for said former boss. They are offering me $75 for it.
That's less than 4 bucks an hour.

I was hoping this would cover my doctor's bill (my insane and stupid doctor's bill).
It will cover gas.

So now I have to dicker, and I feel really unworthy, dickering, like they are going to tell me my time and my work isn't worth it, because let's face it, they will find out I am a lazy slacker who cuts corners, they will unmask me and I don't really deserve to be paid anything. That's what I am afraid of. Or I'll come off looking like a greedy gold-digger because everyone knows writing isn't really WORK, anyone can write, it doesn't take any effort or skill,and a real writer writes for the joy of it, and poops words the way toads in fairytales spit out diamonds, and it is easy, and therefore worth less than say, a bottle of champagne.

Ok, a lot of art goes into champagne.

But when you really think about it, a lot of art goes into everything, and the amount of labor keeping the world spinning is boggling, and everyone has debts to pay, and everyone is contributing, and I don't understand why the rates are so skewed, and maybe I'll just up and become a communist.

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