Don’t ask

Rain. Rain. And again with the rain. Just go away, rain. I’m not sure I’ve talked to anyone, recently, who is thrilled with the amount of rain we’ve endured over the past few weeks.The weather is just plain dreary and as much as I want to stay upbeat and optimistic about my life, I just can’t seem to do it when I hear the rain pit-a-patting on my decrepit roof. My days, these days, are punctuated with dreams of sun and warmth and laundry on the line and coffee on the patio and bike rides on dry pavement or along puddle-free trails. I don’t want to hear my furnace click on in the middle of the afternoon and I certainly don’t want to jam my feet into rubber Wellingtons to go the post office. It’s enough we have to endure four years of a majority federal government of dunderheads to then come out of the pain of that election into days and days of overcast skies and dreary drizzle. I won’t write about federal politics and its precipitous parallel. I won’t. But, since I’m miserable, I will write about one of my other pet peeves and, from what I’ve heard from some of my creative friends, it’s a collective “pet peeve.”

Something for nothing. Yup, anyone who has an iota of creativity rumbling around in their cranium is plagued by the requests of the giving of “something” for someone else’s idea of a good cause. It’s not really something for nothing but, something for nothing in the old piggy bank. Many of you are nodding and know exactly where I’m going with this. In any given week, I’m asked, at least once, either to write something, photograph something, sit in a meeting and contribute a sensible or creative something or bake something, for nothing—no money in the bank. Every one of those folks who asks for “something-for-nothing” usually starts with a saccharine opener and then cuts to the chase or the cause. I can feel all y’all nodding more vigorously. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind making a donation of a photograph or a deep-take on a situation or a bit of an edit or a pan of brownies to a charitable cause; but I’m not independently wealthy and can’t afford to make a career out of “giving it away.” I can’t eat if I don’t get paid for it. I can’t feather my retirement nest with my good deeds and, unless I get a tax receipt, I can’t even get a bit of money back on my tax return. Did I say the rain was making me feel miserable?

Not too long ago I was asked to photograph a wedding. I’m no wedding photographer so I gave the bride-to-be’s mom the name of a couple of wedding photographers I wish I’d known when I was saying “I do.” Mom told me the bridal family didn’t want to pay for the photographs because they just wanted 90 or a 100 candid shots—nothing posed, dontcha know—and I’d be welcome to stay for the dinner. Mom’s rationale was there isn’t really any cost to taking a digital image, anyone could do it and all I had to do was a bit of fixy-fixy on my laptop at the reception, and give her a CD before the hall door hit me where the good Lord split me. Indeed, who wouldn’t want to work for wedding reception food and an evening of random photographing?

I laughed while she was yapping at me, thinking “What if she didn’t like the random images? Would I have to give the dinner back?” It could have been an interesting evening, but I said “no.” For me, it was truly about the principle. Mom-of-the-bride is a management professional. I don’t think she’d be too happy to give up four or five hours of her time and expertise without financial recompense. Had she been a dentist, I might have asked for a bit of barter and I could change my business cards to read “Will shot for a root canal” if the printer would be willing to do the work for free.

My point is, and I do have a point, I’m not opposed to making a donation of my time or my craft to a registered charity and I sure as H E double digital digits don’t mind helping my close friends, my family and one or two of the neighbours when there’s a need. Not at all. But, I am seriously tired of the unbalanced balance sheet of my work life. So, I think I’ll make me a freebie hit list. Anyone who’s hit me for a goodness-of-my-heart deed will be asked to reciprocate. Heck, my kitchen needs a new floor and my barn needs a bit of lumber love. My office could use a new work counter and my car wouldn’t say “no” to detailing and a touch of body-filler.My front porch was painted last year, but the painter didn’t do such a hotshot job. Ya, now I’m feeling better. My deed list is long, I don’t have charity status and as I look out the window at the rain, I can imagine momof- the-bride climbing the ladder in her Michael Kors suit and Manolo Blahniks to clean my eavestrough and swipe a lick of primer on the gingerbread.

Oh, do be quiet. She started it.

theresa@wellingtontimes.ca