People Need to Pay Me

I spent a chunk of the day trying to get paid for work I have done. Some of the pieces have been used, some not. Some of the people are pleasant about being behind on the bookkeeping, some not. In all cases, it’s enervating and demoralizing and feels way too much like begging on the streets.
Sometimes I just want to scream, “You people need to pay me.”
Cause they do.
It’s been strange and potentially healthy, this switch from one side of the street to the other. For years, I was an editor who depended (more than he knew, actually) on freelancers to fill the pages of a newspaper and then of a magazine and a web site. I was pretty good in handling these staffers, who were outside of the office and whose health care costs were way outside the interest of the companies where I worked. But I could have been better. More often I should have made the extra phone call, encouraging the freelancer to feel like part of the family.
Now I’m on the other side, provided copy that is met with what feels, even in the digital age, like a shrug. It’s all about content, but those of us who provide it sometimes find our work ignored. Not cause it's bad or even particularly good, but because there is too much crap for editors to wade through on any given day. The editors cannot possibly process it all with intelligence and responsiveness. The freelancers among us crave, meanwhile, crave feedback and recognition and appreciation. We’re lucky to get a returned email.
Which reminds me. Today a guy who I worked for full-time for five years…could not be bothered to return my email. What’s with that?
It’s the understaffing, probably. The lucky few left behind with full-time jobs are doing the work that the rest of us left on the way out. On this particular day, I’m not crying for any of them.