Mother Lode of Pyrite

I don’t get as much freelance work as I would like.

Part of the reason is that I suck at sales. For whatever reason I don’t talk or write well about what I can do, about what I do: Abilities I have. Confidence in my abilities I have by the bucketful. In terms of customer loyalty and satisfaction, I”m batting nearly 1000.

One potential source of contracts I’ve tried is the Craig’s List. However, as a freelance designer, I find the CL to be a job search slag heap. For a few months last year I thought it might be the mother lode of opportunities. Perhaps the CL is the mother lode of freelance opportunities for some. It hasn’t been for me.

Getting a personal response from posters has been rare. Except for one response, the ones I’ve received have been positive, but haven’t resulted in contracts.

It seems to me that the majority of postings for web and/or graphic designers are made by people who want something for nothing or don’t know how to ask for what they want. Some are by other web/graphic designers looking for staff, contractors or subcontractors. I’ve applied to a few of these postings, thinking I’d happily exchange a shop rate for an hourly one, if the other designer is providing me with steady work.

One such firm seemed to me a good fit. The ad was precise and concise. It was also a bit bitchy, listing a number of annoyances they wouldn’t tolerate, including not following instructions.

Following their guidelines, I applied with a mock up and, according to the owner of the company, I nailed the test. He commented favorably on the design, and my work ethic. He then asked me whether I worked from a template, the methods I used and the length of time it took to complete the mock up.

The job took roughly six hours from concept to mock up, including researching Asian restaurant websites, finding suitable stock images and creating an original image for the background. He asked. I told him. I never heard from him again. After letting it slide for a few weeks, I e-mailed him, asking whether he’d made a decision.

Can you guess what happened?

Neither can I.

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