Valediction

 Have I not wrapped up my incessant carping about this yet?  Ha.  No.  I haven't.  But I did have something of a very, very late breakthrough I will share with you now.

Why did I get fired?  It was not likely for lack of skill.  It wasn't because of an inability to fit in.  It wasn't because of cronyism - based on everything I know about the Web Mistress*, she is far too concerned with her own interests to bother with something like that, which brings me to my point.

The reason I got fired is because it allowed the Web Mistress* to control the photographer's billing.  The Firm does not pay the new photographer directly.  His services are billed through the Web Mistress*, and this allows the Web Mistress* to mark up his services.  If she did not hire me, then the bill does not pass through her for her to mark up.  The only way she could potentially profit from me doing the photo shoots would be for her to attend those shoots herself, and that would require her time.  This is very bad.  When the new photographer took the portraits, the Web Mistress* didn't show up.  She didn't need to because she was going to be the one sending the bill for that shoot, and she can add whatever percentage she pleases.  Pushing me out the door opened another door through which more profit could be channeled.  It took me far too long to realize this.  Or it took me far to long to clear my head out enough to see it.  

I suppose if I had worked something out where I was giving her a slice of the action, I'd still have the job.  If that's really true, she can kiss my ass.  I know that the people who hired her to do this job are finding out many things they don't like - and they were warned about all of it.  

Never mind the fact that the website has been in development for ALMOST A YEAR and still isn't done.  I'm going to guess few people involved in this complete fiasco are happy about it.

That, once and for all, really is all I have to say about it.  Thank you. 

*is the PG term used in place of the actual word.

“…”

When I was 19 I loaded everything I owned (which wasn't much at all) into my compact car and drove with a friend clear across the country.  Over 3,000 miles.  We stayed with relatives.  We stayed in tents.  We stayed in cheap hotels.  We saw plains.  We saw mountains.  We saw animals.  We saw days and days of rain.  We locked the keys in the car.  We hiked around Devil's Tower.  We stood at the Four Corners.  We lost money in Vegas.  We drove around Los Angeles.  We drove to San Diego.  We drove back to Los Angeles for another disappointing look, and things suddenly fell apart.  I drove back home alone.  I saw lots of interstate.  I saw Niagra Falls.  I saw my way back home.  But in the meantime, I saw a large chunk of the country.

Not a single member of my family ever said, "So how was your trip?"  Not once.  I kept waiting for the day someone would ask, but it never came.  No one ever asked me about the single greatest adventure of my young life.  "What was your favorite?"  "What route did you take?"  "See anything interesting?"  "How was California?"  "Did you really get in a traffic incident with a girl who looked like Lisa Bonet?  And she was cool about it?"  "What happened with your friend?"  "Did you learn anything?"

None of that.  The closest it ever came was once my uncle made a scene at the dinner table and stormed off, and in a desperate need to break the awkward silence my father said, "So... you were telling us about California."  A bit shocked, I said, "I was?" and he said "Yes."  Then the rest of the extended family started conversing about what my uncle just did and that was that.  That was the most we ever talked about it.

Trust me when I say it's too late to bring it up to any of those people now.  That's just how it went.  Yes, I could have randomly brought it up, but that's not the way to do it.  I guess it didn't mean that much to them.  That was pretty upsetting.  I got over it.  Until like 5 minutes ago.

The Long View

The creative world of course is subjective, so it requires thick skin.  Some of your ideas will get rejected for all sorts of reasons and you can't be hurt by that because you'd never get anything done.  That's not news, but what I didn't realize is that there's another angle to this subjectivity where people may fire you because they think there's something better out there, only to hire someone else and find out there wasn't.  Now having gained some perspective, those people might rethink their decision and call you back.  

So after being fired you can have your feelings hurt because your artistic sensibilities have been insulted (HA!), or you can recognize that creative work is subjective and sometimes requires this kind of perspective, and you need to have some emotional awareness of it.

That second choice sounds nice and enlightened, but I'm not so sure that's the answer.  The thick skin part of creative output is accepting that some of your ideas (that you might really like) will get rejected.  It's not about being okay with getting fired.  That's really the fatal blow, I think, and I'm not sure a person should be that thick skinned.  I'm also not sure how often a company that fired you would call you back, but I suppose it could be part of their learning process.  

Nonetheless, everything I wrote up there is why creative types like to use a lot of pomp and circumstance to make the work seem more elaborate than it actually is.  It is possible to show up with a point-and-shoot and take an excellent photo in one click, but that actually isn't as helpful as it sounds.  All the bells and whistles actually help make the process - something that comes from the ether - visible.  And it doesn't matter how thick your skin is, you've got to make an effort to contain the subjectivity of it all.