“Why would you want to leave freelance for a full time job?” The woman on the other side of the Zoom asked, her tone tinged with resentment. She was the fifth person in the interview process to pose this question. Almost a year ago, I was interviewing for a full time job. My experience was overqualified, and I was not totally sold on the position or the company being a fit. But, at four months pregnant with my second child, I was very interested in pivoting away from freelance and back into the stability of full time role. It didn’t need to be my dream job.
Miraculously, the five women who interviewed me did everything in their power to accomplish the opposite of their task — selling me on this position — and instead convinced me that this was a bad idea.
Even still, I didn’t get the job. Ouch!
In fact, I haven’t gotten any job for the last three years. I’ve barely been able to secure interviews. The one I just described was only made possible because of a personal connection.
My resume has been reviewed by several trusted sources who deem it “impressive,” and I have even succumbed to pleading writing cover letters. So what gives?
Seriously!? WHAT GIVES? The narrative of the Great Resignation continues not to resonate with me or my peers’ equally disgruntled anecdotes. We WANT jobs!!
In fairness, I’m not painting a full picture. I have gotten jobs in the last three years, but none of them full time. Yes, I’m wanted — but not for long, or with any commitment. In that regard, I actually work quite a bit.
I work a lot because I need to scrap together anywhere from 6-10 clients at a time just to make enough money to feel financially stable — especially when I find myself as the breadwinner. Over the course of many years, my husband and I, intentionally or not, have taken turns holding that title based on the ebb and flow of our opportunities. One reason I love our relationship is because of the way we are able to make space for each other’s ambitions and earning potential. For the last two and a half years, it’s been me carrying more of the financial torch (though my partner also works and provides our health insurance), which has coincided with having two babies. It’s a lot — even with a very involved co-parent and life partner. And hey, it’s a lot for him too.
Look, I love to work. I have had an insatiable hunger for it since I was a kid selling lemonade and handmade goods on the street corner. But, even I, a true workaholic, am getting burnt out on carrying the mental and physical load of two small kids and almost a dozen clients.
Stability is underrated. Freelance is romanticized.
When I found out I was pregnant with my second baby, I was instantly rushed with flashbacks to the incredible effort it took during first year with my son — for which I only worked the second half because I was able to take a true maternity leave. This time around, I was self-employed, with no one paying me to bond with my child. After it sunk in that we were having another kid, I immediately started applying for full time jobs that never received a response, or were met with a mildly rude rejection email. I wanted mat leave. I wanted stability. I wanted the ability to focus on ONE job to leave ample brain space for what I knew was coming — sleep deprivation, 24/7 breastfeeding, and nap schedules.
My wish was not granted, and I was forced to go back to my freelance clients at six weeks postpartum. My five and a half month old daughter only started sleeping through the night two weeks ago. You do the math.
Now that I’m getting a mildly adequate amount of sleep again and emerging from the fog, I’m seeing things more clearly and I don’t like what I see! I’m feeling fussy about my career, and disgruntled about the frothy environment that involves a lot of excited chatter around what always ends up being empty opportunities. Every few months, I start to feel this way, which fuels one or two nights of frantic job application submissions on LinkedIn.
I think we all do this, no matter your industry. If the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again with the same result, then it’s no surprise that we all hit these walls with work every so often. It’s a grind, even if you own your own grinder.
I fell into such a funk this past week, feeling frustrated by the shockingly high number of promising full time opportunities I’ve been presented with over the past few years, only to have them quickly evaporate into nothingness. Everyone talks about wanting me, but can’t seem to commit. I must have a weird stink on me.
It’s hard to pity me because outwardly I’m successful as a freelancer. I’m in demand and get paid well. A lot of people want to work with me, but not in the way I’m looking for in this moment of my life –– which reminds me a lot of this guy:
In tarot, the Five of Cups shows a man in a long black cloak looking down on three cups that have been knocked over — symbolic of his disappointments and failures. Behind him stand two cups representing new opportunities and potential, but because he is so fixed on his losses (the overturned cups), he misses the opportunities available to him.
In the background, a bridge crosses a large, flowing river and leads to the security of the castle or home on the opposite side of the riverbank – if only he can move on from the over-turned cups. The bridge is a message to build a bridge and get over it!
I have a strong professional network, a roster of great clients and, yet, all I can fixate on are the automated rejection emails from companies who probably never had a human see the cute branding on my resume. It might seem silly. I should count my cups, not my spills.
But, it’s more than just wanting to feel wanted by a company — which does feel good! Do not underestimate the power of being desired. I’m just physically and emotionally tired of freelance and can’t seem to catch any breaks off the hamster wheel. Where I once found myself thriving as a freelancer, the role doesn’t fit well in this season of my life, or this version of myself. I’m both feeling too big and too small for the job description. The amount of work, number of clients, and invoices aren’t always accurate measures of success, I’ve learned.
I know those women, who interviewed me for the job both us knew wasn’t a good fit, would have gladly traded their stable salary for my freedom. Grass is always greener. I don’t blame them for thinking that — especially since they all seemed kind of miserable. But, generally speaking, a freelance career is often very romanticized and, for many reasons, rightfully so.
The Good
The earning potential for freelancers is limitless. Last year I brought in more than I could ever possibly be offered in the form of an annual salary as a woman in my industry. And, I’ve likely done it in less than a 40 hour work week because I’ve had the luxury (and necessity without full time childcare) of being able to build my own workday around my children’s needs, ensuring I don’t miss a moment of their development — time I’ll never get back.
Not having any one company feel like they can commit to me full time works both ways. I have no allegiances and can take on as many clients as possible, even if it includes juggling their complementary rushes and lulls, and hiring out work when necessary. With one foot out the door, I have no issues setting major boundaries like rescheduling meetings because my kid’s naps were off, or I lost track of time at the arboretum with my son. I regularly sign out of Slack when I’m over it, take my time responding to emails, and straight up say “NO,” to deadlines I find unreasonable.
And, let me tell you, that feels REALLY GOOD. It especially feels pretty baller to turn down opportunities that aren’t a fit, and let clients go when it no longer becomes worth the time.
The Bad
Even if I get to dictate my schedule, and often my deadlines, I am still living in a constant cortisol-fueled scarcity mindset. I earned so much money last year because I worked incredibly hard.
I worked every single day. I didn’t take vacation. When I wasn’t taking care of my child, cleaning up a mess, or checking boxes on a mundane domestic to-do list, I was working. I filled every possible crack with billable hours.
“Why not just … stop taking on so much work?” You may be wondering.
Last year I had two big retainer clients restructure their orgs and abruptly end their engagement with me the same month — a huge blow to my expected income. Luckily, I was buoyed by new projects until I could fill the gaps long term, but it was a reminder none of my work was guaranteed. I feel compelled to push the limits of my capacity, while simultaneously chasing new opportunities, because being freelance is all about inertia. If you want to keep moving forward, you have to stay in motion. I can never relax.
It’s all very fight or flight — but mostly fight. I’m lucky that I’ve built a strong network of people to the point that most of my work is through a referral, but I still end up spending a decent time applying to, following up on, and writing proposals for work that I may never win. These are all hours of time for which I am not paid. This became impossibly hard to swallow once my available time shrank even further with a second baby. Like all business owners, I’m also responsible for invoicing, keeping track of who hasn’t paid me and, of course, TAXES.
For the most part, my clients are great about sending their payments time. But, having to chase down money is annoying and humiliating. It’s also difficult to plan or budget when your multiple pay days are moving targets.
The Ugly
Ultimately, freelancing is really fucking lonely — especially for an extrovert like me. Some of my best jobs weren’t great because of the work I produced, but rather the people with whom I was doing it. As a freelancer, I’m currently connected to about five different companies’ Slack accounts mostly as a “guest.” I’m occasionally invited to social meetings, or mentioned in a channel, but really I’m a digital ghost. This has been even more exacerbated by the pandemic and an inability to be in person. I actually have my first real client meeting this week for the first time in three years and I don’t even know how to feel about it.
This is the tradeoff for your freedom and ability to be untethered. There’s no reliable support system, both big and small. From daily water cooler chatter to venting about the way a project is being managed, and even a complete and utter lack of safety net like maternity leave — yes I can make my own schedule — but I am truly on my own in every way.
Did you know I proposed a maternity leave payment schedule to several long-term retainer clients and only one (my smallest client) agreed to it? Most of them told me, “It’s not in our policy.” As if company policies were legal and binding. As if they were not meant to change when new situations arise. With the rising number of contractor roles replacing full-time employees, I hope companies can find it in their hearts and policies to rethink how disposable their employees are, no matter what kind of tax form they complete.
But, the worst is the part you can’t see at all: the mental load. Maybe if you’re still reading, I have offered some insight into what it takes to make a living as a chronic guest star trying to make it to series regular. Part of my brain is always on. There’s no shut off valve. I’m constantly feeling the need to get ahead in case I get the opportunity for more money, or if childcare falls through, and I am unable to find the hours later in the week. It take so much energy to make every one of my clients feel like they’re the only one — which is the level of service I am committed to providing. It’s what I would want to receive.
Sigh…
Don’t get me wrong, I like freelancing. I am empowered by being my own boss. I’ve proven that I have the capacity and tenacity to do this. But, sometimes even the things you really love don’t serve you one-hundred percent of the time, and that’s OK. When and if I can shut the door on freelancing, I know it won’t be permanent. It will always be there for me whenever it makes sense again.
So, for now I’ll try to focus on counting my cups instead of my spills. And, the next time I somehow make it to an interview for a full time role, I’ll know how to answer when they inevitably ask, “Why would you want to stop being freelance?”
***That all said, if you are currently freelancing or considering making the jump, I am always here to offer advice or just talk shop!
Okay, this is me, but before I've applied anywhere. Two kids, fantastic partner, healthy freelance business doing work I love... but after 7 years feeling like I'm in a spinning wheel of hurry up and wait, or "we want something wonderful" with no time and no consideration of the creative process. So this was an essential read for me, thank you, I just don't know what to do - learn to play with others again, or realize this is not the first time I've felt this way, it's just that life is different on my end. Or I'm reading everything wrong...