When you tell people you are a freelancer, way too many of them have that image in their brains of you in a hammock in a beach house watching the waves crash in some tropical paradise, drink in your hand idly typing on the laptop across your knees.
Freelancing is a lot of fun, don’t get me wrong, and it gives me a lot of opportunities that I never would have in the corporate world. Still, it is work, and not the kind of work where you can take a week off and still get the same paycheck like clockwork.
My wife, the Twin Miracles, and I just returned from our most ambitious family trip to date – one that I had hoped not to work on, but bills and such eventually made it a necessity.
So on our first full day there, I packed up the laptop in the backpack and headed off to find the hotel’s business center after the rest of the family was tucked in around 9:30 p.m. I walked the lobby three times before finally asking for directions, at which time I was told that the business center no longer existed, and had been turned into a place to buy tickets to a popular resort.
Instead, I was directed to find a comfortable spot in the lobby. After walking around a theme park all day long, I fell asleep after about 8 minutes on that couch.
I did literally the same thing the next night.
Our trip involved two different cities and the second hotel was a significant upgrade over the first, in large part because the business center actually existed. The wireless was deplorable and the thermostat seemed stuck on 83 degrees, but I got in a few hours of work.
The next night I dressed for the heat only to find the thermostat hovering around 66. After an hour of slowly turning into one of those sides of beefs that Rocky is always punching I went and asked the front desk about it. They had the controlling thermostat down low in their back office to stay awake apparently.
Our last night was at a third hotel near the airport we were flying out of, and when I went to that business center, it turned out to be two computers at a desk in a extraordinarily open area that included a fireplace, couches, a balcony, and, a bar. The bar had a live speaker pulsing out music and colors with no one to enjoy (save me). I tried to unplug the thing or turn it off for 10 minutes to no avail. I asked the bartender to do it for me and she told me she couldn’t until 10 p.m. in case customers came (it was 9:48 p.m. when she said this).
I had a big trial job ahead of me that night that I really wanted to nail to get the bigger contract so I put on my head phones figuring 12 minutes from now it would be peaceful.
Nope, at 9:57 p.m., not one but THREE people showed up for drinks, a pizza that appeared out of nowhere, and random conversations with the bartender. Suddenly I’d become the old man shaking my fist at the people having a BBQ in their backyard past dusk when the deed restriction clearly states you have to be quiet at sundown.
Happily, my Spotify drowned out the revelry, I nailed the trial job and we made it safely home the next night by 10 p.m., where my three favorite girls went off to Dreamland, and I went back to work.