It all began with a phonecall for a briefing on a book cover illustration the following morning. A fairly long drive from Parkhurst to Midrand in terms of time-squandering if the job fell through, but who am I not to throw good old fashioned caution to the wind and, since I don’t drive, get my friend to thump in the address onto the GPS and haul me there? Who knew, perhaps this impression of reliable flexibility would lead to other gigs, right? Cue sound of game show buzzer when you get the answer…WRONG!
And so the nightmare began. Friday morning, I got the low down on the double page spread illustration and the red flags technically weren’t yet due to fly, even with pencils due that afternoon - a given in the illustration industry. Any freelancer will roll their eyes skyward and curl their lip as they recite “deadline horror tales”. So, my scribbles were dutifully e-mailed through to the Artwork and Production Co-Ordinator that afternoon. The supervisor would apparently be in on Saturday to screen pencils and give the go-ahead for colour to be completed by Monday morning. That’s right…just one weekend to complete a full-colour DPS book cover from scratch to completion. No problem. No call from the supervisor Saturday, so I chased up my original “briefer” to find out what was happening. He said he’d phone her and get back to me. He didn’t. Monday morning, I phoned to get some answers.
No one knew. Someone had to phone someone else. Then someone would phone me back. They didn’t. Tuesday, I chased up again. This time when the Artwork and Production Co-Ordinator asked me how I was, I told him I was feeling a little stressed…wasn’t he, I asked, considering the deadline was due yesterday? Not at all, apparently. A couple of weeks went by and one or two changes had to be made during this time, by which I’d chilled considerably. Heck, if they weren’t in a hurry, I wasn’t losing sleep. This was a company, after all, who when they had to send scanned, e-mailed pencils from me down to head office in Cape Town, didn’t simply hit the Forward icon on their task bar, but printed out a copy and then couriered it overnight…to Cape Town. From Joburg. Seems head office doesn’t know how to press “print”. And every time another change had to be approved, an additional 24 hours got wasted couriering a printed copy across the nation.
Cue bright red flags in abundance and awfully windswept ones at that.
Week 3 and I’d booked a flight to Durban on Thursday to help my parents pack up house to move up country after 34 years in the same house. Astonishing quantities of clutter accumulate after over 3 decades. My mother had been diagnosed a couple of weeks before with liver, abdominal and bone cancer with accompanying tumour behind one eye. I rate this a family emergency…time to band together and help out. Family comes first. Monday I was still pulling teeth trying to get a go-ahead on colour from my client, warning them I was leaving Thursday and would not be taking this project with me. I was prepared to work through nights if I had to but I was running out of time. Once again, someone had to phone someone else and no one got back to me. Tuesday’s voicemails to them were fruitless. Wednesday, I’d made a decision that there was just no way it was going to happen. Wednesday afternoon the supervisor (who was never available on her cellphone to begin with) left an “urgent message” on my voicemail. Panic seemed to be weaving its way through production corridors that end. I’ll be blatantly candid at this point and admit that I laughed while I packed my suitcase.
Thursday morning. Flight that afternoon. I received an e-mail from my client stating that his bosses and supervisors had asked him to re-commission someone else, that I must invoice for a 10 percent rejection fee and that, although the artwork was well-captured, it was not improving and there had been too many delays. Too many delays? No one gets back to me within time frames, management ignores my voice messages and couriers copies to head office overnight…and there are too many delays?
It goes without saying I was revolted. And proceeded to telephonically take out the Artwork and Production Co-Ordinator. My personality strongly suggests I hunt you down and storm your office. Fortunately I had a flight that afternoon. Priorities prevailed. I invoiced them, via e-mail, as per instruction from the Artwork and Production Co-Ordinator. It was March 13th. A month later I chased up the invoice with the accounts guy. He phoned me back the following day because he couldn’t track it down. At this point, he assumed it was on the desk of one of two people who had to sign it before they then posted it…that’s right, I said posted it to head office in Cape Town (sound familiar?).
An infinite array of brightly coloured flags, not the least of which were red, began to flutter violently on my horizon.
I pointed out I’d e-mailed it through March 13th. Here’s where the accounts guy paused and suggested I send through another invoice to his e-mail address. So I cancelled my previous invoice, wrote out a new one, scanned and e-mailed it to my helpful friend in accounts, who phoned me back to tell me he had a problem printing my invoice out. I’m thinking…what IS the DEAL with these people and printing things OUT, already! Turns out it has to be an original invoice. Then why give me his e-mail address to send through my invoice? Intriguing Questions 101.
“Are you suggesting I drive out to Midrand to personally drop off an invoice for 250 pathetic rands?”
“If you could please do that.”
“No. You’ll have to send a driver to collect it.”
“We don’t send drivers. I don’t know what to suggest, but it has to be an original.”
I’m rubbing my eyes at this point. My ulcers are picketing my stomach with rude messages and my eyeballs have decided on north as a direction to glare at.
“What is your physical address so I can post it via snail mail to you?”
He gives me his address. I post the invoice the following day. After two weeks I chase it up again (not being unreasonable for time here, I reckon) and it’s still not on his desk. He suggests I send another one. Not a sausage, I’m thinking, and a couple of days later, he decides to check his post and Bob’s your auntie. Well, in this case, anyway.
A week later he phones me to tell me he can’t pay my invoice because I’m not on the system. I patiently ask how it is that the person who briefed me initially with this project from heck on a kebab stick did not inform me of this. The accounts guy doesn’t know, but will happily e-mail me the respective form, which I can then print and fill out. I ask him if I can scan it with my information filled in and e-mail it back to him. No…it must be an original. That’s another two weeks’ postage. Then I’ll be put onto the system. Then my invoice will be sent to the two people who have to sign it to authorize payment to me (crikey, if past turnaround time is anything to go on, the 2010 World Cup will happen before my payment does) and then it will be posted to Cape Town’s head office.
Pardon my cynicism. It’s May 19th as I write this. That’s over 2 months since I first invoiced these people. I don’t mean to whinge. Must be South African time.
