I wish when you call me nowadays you’d stop saying “Bonjour.” Stop saying “Ca va?” even. In fact don’t even say your name, because I see it already flashing across the top of my iPhone. Just tell me what you want, because I know that’s why you’re calling. You want me to do something, and I don’t blame you. I want me do something too.
But where we’re different is that you want me to do something for free.
Am I right? I thought I was.
I’m betting it’s a personal project per se, a personal project you’re developing, and you want me to help you write it… for free. Am I getting warmer? I thought I was.
No you don’t want me to read your script. Anybody can do that. You want me to spend a considerable amount of time writing it, and in return I get no money right? I thought so. Instead I get the satisfaction of knowing somebody respects my work; that, and an imaginary lottery ticket. Because the chances of me winning the lottery and this project getting made are the about the same.
Don’t worry. You don’t have to give me the line of “In a way John we’re both sharing the risk here.” I won’t make you lie to me. Friends don’t do that. In fact I’m not going to let it get to this point. I’m just going to forward you to my voice mail.
That’s right. I’ve developed a button system like a lot of companies have to better address your call. Here’s what you’ll hear.
“Hi you’ve reached John. If this is something you want for free, press one. If this is something John owes you for press two. If, by a miracle, this is something you want to pay John for, press three. If not, please hold the line and John will take your call… never.”
What do you think? Pas mal non? And you know what? Since implementing this system, I’ve never received anything in my three box. Nothing. Probably because the one and two boxes are always full.
There’s a great scene in the Larry David series Curb your Enthusiasm where Larry is convinced he has a cancerous mole on his back. One day he spots a doctor friend at the gym and asks him to look at it. Unfortunately, the doctor’s in a rush and refuses. Larry, frustrated, scolds his friend telling him he’s not very generous with his time. The friend in turn asks Larry “What do you do for a living?” “I’m a writer,” responds Larry. “OK then, next time you’re in a rush, how about you write me some free shit.”
I’m the opposite of Larry. I never ask anybody to do something for free. Never. I even gave my wife 10 euros the other night after we had sex. She didn’t take it well and I understand. It’s just that I can’t fathom asking anyone for a favor. Not because I’m not in need, it’s because I’m too paranoid of somehow being in their debt afterwards.
What’s hilarious are the people who get upset when I call them to pay me. “Listen I hate to bug you,” I say, “it’s just that I have no heat in my apartment and my kids are eating out of the garbage. I was wondering when you could pay me for that thing I wrote.”
“Vous etes complemement Americain John,” they say. “C’est toujours l’argent avec toi. Fric fric fric. Oui je vais te payer, mais franchement si je savais que c’etait juste le fric qui t’interssese, j’aurais cherche quelqu’un d’autre.”
I assure him that it wasn’t just for the money, that I really did believe in his Rabbi who accidentally gets a sex change and learns to appreciate life more script. Anything so he doesn’t get mad and hate me, because that’s really why I helped him in the first place.
The problem now is when people do want to pay me, I’m so flattered, I jump into it all the way, only to realize later what it is they’re paying me for. I’ve translated Pilates for Dummies. I’ve written the Pullman Hotel power point investor’s manual. I’ve created names for Fagor-Brandt dishwashers. This work is so awful; a Rabbi sex change script feels like Pulp Fiction.
Maybe I should start asking to be paid in bitcoin. Or maybe I could set up a marriage list at Gallery Lafayette or Habitat and just ask each potential employer to buy something there for me instead. John’s Freelance list I’ll call it.
In fact that’s going to be my new message. “If you want John to work with you, please select from the following menu:
To pay John with a sleeping bag, press 4
To pay John’s electric bill, press 3
To pay John in sex, press 5.
At least this way when I say yes, I won’t think I’m writing free shit for you,and you’ll have the satisfaction of knowing you’re not exploiting me. And it’s not just because I believe in the project, and it’s not just for the love of the craft, it’s because we’re friends. In fact, something dirty as money never even entered my mind, and apparently (by the fact you’re calling) yours neither.