I have blonde hair! It's a little weird, yeah? Deal with it!
Yeah, rap face.
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The woman from the spec work email incident replied. Alas -- she was very nice. But still wrong.
Hi Kate,
Thanks for your email.
We did not intend the request for a sample banner to be insulting or unprofessional but rather a means to give us a sense of your design work as it relates to our company as every company has its own unique identity. It also allows us to streamline our interview process. It’s clear that you are uncomfortable with our request, which I respect. The three other designers from whom we requested banners have indicated that they are going to submit a sample tomorrow. If we don’t find what we are looking for, we will be happy to consider furthering our conversations with you.
Kindest Regards,
B--- Somehow I doubt I revolutionized the way designers are being perceived at this particular company. Oh well, I tried!
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I hope this wasn't how I got sick, because it ruled.
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| 2009-09-09 11:17 |
| spec work |
| Public |
| proud of myself y'all |
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A week or two ago, I sent an email to a company in search of a freelance designer to start a relationship with, attaching my resume and explaining my experience, and I included a link to my portfolio. They selected me as someone they wanted to "move forward with in the interview process", which was exciting to me, of course.
Then I read their email. The first paragraph:
"1. Sample: I am sure that you have had a chance to check out our
website and get a feel for our company and values. We are asking our
targeted candidates to design a generic banner for us. This banner would be
placed on an affiliate's page (like a Yoga studio) to capture the attention
of their visitors who are looking to buy supplies or clothing for Yoga.
Something simple that speaks to the variety of Yoga products we have
available - Yoga mats, Yoga mat bags, clothing, props, etc. The design of
our site is somewhat dated, but we like bright but earthy colors; an
authentic India look, feel and imagery; and want it to be fun and
interesting. If we ultimately choose not to hire you, we will not use the
work sample provided. Please provide this no later than 10:00am on Friday,
September 11th." This is the most insulting thing that anyone can ever ask a designer to do. My blood boiled just reading it. Would you ask a doctor to give you free treatment so you can decide whether you'd like to go there in the future? Would you ask a gas station to fill up your tank for free so you can judge whether that's the gas you'll use from now on? You would get laughed at. So many people outside the creative industry devalue our work just because it's "intangible." It's design, so it must be easy to just crank it out for free, right? Well, I got my little panties in a wad and wrote back. Hi B---,
I really appreciate you giving me the opportunity to continue in the interview process. I believe that working with you and [company removed] would be an exciting position.
However, your request for a sample item is not something I'm willing to accede to. This is what is known as "working on spec" and is usually considered a highly unprofessional request. It amounts to me (and any other designers you've chosen to go forward with) doing work for free for your company and being promised nothing at all in return. Any truly experienced and professional designer -- the kind of person you'd want to work with, naturally -- will consider this a scam. The charge for a banner ad can run anywhere between $50 and $200, depending on the work put into it; would you send someone $100 worth of your merchandise in the hopes that they'd buy more, but with no guarantee whatsoever that they will?
The designers who actually do send you a sample of their work are going to be ones who are unprofessional, unwise, and likely desperate, and have no respect for their own work. It would be an error to hire them.
Please see this article for more about why spec work is a bad idea, particularly the section entitled "Cons For Clients Using Spec": http://justcreativedesign.com/2009/08/12/the-pros-and-cons-of-spec-work/
Again, I do believe that working with your company would be a lot of fun, and I encourage you to look at my portfolio for examples of what I can do in order to best make your decision, but I am unwilling to do work for free.
http://attemptnolandings.com
Thank you.
Kate It feels pretty good to know that I'm not desperate enough to do that kind of shit.
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| 2009-09-09 10:45 |
| ugh |
| Public |
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I went to PAX this weekend. It was great!
I got strep there. Now I'm on Vicodin. WHEHEEOWOOOWWW
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Tomorrow, I start working 5 hours a week for an email marketing company. They won't pay me, but in exchange I'll get a desk and 24/7 access to their lovely office to run my own freelancing business for the rest of my week. So begins my attempt to start living the freelance life full-time. I even have cute business cards. This is pretty fucking terrifying... but even at what seems like the exorbitant hourly rate I'm charging (and it's about half the average rate for my industry), business has already come flooding through my door. In the last week I've made twice what I was making at Microsoft, but I know that may or may not be typical or consistent. Have to be smart, have to keep my head above water, have to stay organized.
In the meantime, if you know anyone who needs a web and graphic designer extraordinaire, please do send them my way.
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I went ahead and quit anyway. I've really been unhappy there. I do have a second job that pays super well, just doesn't have the most reliable hours. It will pay the bills for now.
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| 2009-06-03 21:04 |
| penis |
| Public |
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I'm going to start writing about graphic sex and controversial personal issues. My exhibitionist instincts tell me to allow you the chance to listen in. Please comment if you wish to be added to the naughty filter and possibly be offended, grossed out, aroused, or some meaty combination of the three. Note: I reserve the right to think you are pervy and not add you to said filter if I think it would make things weird.
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here's another thing I drew, but this time it's me.
( also too big for your little tiny friends page )
next on the agenda: learn what to put in backgrounds
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( here, I drew a picture of my boyfriend )
and in other news, I got a great job working as a software development apprentice at a Microsoft research lab in downtown Seattle and life is now peaches and creams.
♥
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this boyfriend + this city + this life + a goddamn job = perfection
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I broke up with Jadrian. It has been a very messy experience.
I moved to Seattle.
I'm dating a gorgeous man who is about a foot taller than me, has a bunch of tattoos and lip piercings, plays a killer bass, and is my best friend in the world.
I'm playing WoW again and I'm not even a little ashamed.
I live near a bunch of my friends and it's been amazing to be able to be like "hey what are you doing tomorrow let's go get dinner okay" for the first time in years.
I have a lot on my mind that I can't tell you, dear livejournal friends. The internet is a gossipy motherfucker sometimes. But I miss every one of you.
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As yet unnamed. He's seven weeks old or so, and he weighs less than a pound. We're holding off on naming him until he demonstrates his personality traits more obviously. So far, he climbs everything and fears nothing.
( kitten pictures ahoy! )
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Look at this fucking cat I just biked past.
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Today I gotta return my incredibly overdue library books, finish packing things that will be nonessential over the weekend, do my dishes, and try one last time to sell my futon. Also rent Total Recall because I have been jonesing to watch that movie all week.
Tomorrow I take Crunch to the vet for a health certificate so he can fly, go by the office to drop off my Macbook (sob) and my keys, bake two loaves of banana bread to try and use up some of my baking supplies before I toss them, pack a suitcase for PAX, clean the apartment, meet up with a friend who's coming through on his way up to Seattle, and just generally freak out.
Friday morning, CALL THAT FUCKING LADY AT THE TRUCK RENTAL PLACE, Jadrian arrives in Portland, we pick up the truck we're going to use on Monday for running things around to Goodwill and Amtrak (the place is closed on Monday -- why the fuck did I decide to move on Labor Day weekend), do a couple of errands, and then hop a train to Seattle at 6 or so to arrive around 9:30 and party for god knows how long amidst a sea of great people.
Saturday and Sunday are just going to just be sheer insanity. I keep trying to make a mental itinerary of those days but my brain isn't able to wrap around it.
Sunday evening, we return by train to Portland and probably sleep the sleep of the dead.
Monday, everything that's not been sold or given away goes in the trash or to Goodwill, we take all of my boxes and my bike to Amtrak to ship, we return the truck, and I give the house another vacuuming.
Very very early on Tuesday morning, I drop off my keys to my rental agency and we take our suitcases and my cat and get on the MAX and head to the airport. Our flight is at 8:07 in the morning, and we arrive in Providence at 7 PM Eastern time. I hate flying east; whole days just gone! We take my stuff to my new apartment (Jadrian picked up the two sets of keys to the place yesterday [haha, I just realized one of those keys says "KW1 USA" -- clearly it's meant to be]), pay my landlord the balance of the rent, and collapse.
Here goes nothin'.
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The last couple of days have been pretty unusual. Maybe that's just the way life goes when you're approaching a huge pivotal moment. You charge it up with your energy and the things you have to do and the preparations you're making, and things start shifting and clinging with your static electricity.
Yesterday, instead of working, my coworkers and I all went to race go-karts and play laser tag and mini-golf. I'm pretty much designed for anything that's meant to entertain a twelve-year-old boy, and these games were no exception -- my team kicked ass at laser tag and my vest informed me that I was the top scorer at the end. Despite having not played laser tag since my trip to the Santa Cruz boardwalk when I was 14, I'm evidently a total natural. I privately attributed it to playing so much Team Fortress 2. Who says video games don't teach you life skills?
After I got home, I obsessively cleaned the furniture I'm selling on craigslist for a couple hours, then wandered down to Fred Meyer to see if they had any moving boxes I could have. They had nothing suitable, but I saw another girl struggling with empty produce boxes, and I offered my assistance. We carried the boxes out to her car, during which time I learned that she was on her way to San Francisco to be with a boy she'd met two weeks prior and fell madly in love with, and that she had a cat and was leaving in the morning, and she told me I gave her a warm happy feeling and that she wanted to exchange information with me and become pen pals. That was the craziest five minutes I've had in a long time. But exchange information we did, and I wished her luck, and she gave me a hug and we parted ways.
Then when I got home, I checked my email and saw that I'd been friended here on Livejournal and then emailed by a really cool fellow who is a gigantic nerd and wrote a movie called Fanboys, which is coming out in the next few weeks, it looks like. How fucking cool is that? I'm geeking the shit out over here!
Today, I had some really nice folks come by to buy my couch and two of my tables. My apartment's starting to look like something that's actually going to be vacated soon. After they left, I headed out of the house to kill some time downtown.
Now, I'm not sure I've mentioned this in this journal, but black men love me. I'm not sure what it is. I'm fairly certain it's partially the fact that I have a monster booty, but regardless, black guys just really love to yell things at me, and sometimes they bypass me entirely and just yell at my ass. Hardly a day goes by when this does not happen. I am not saying this to brag; this is just a fact of life for me. Usually I have my headphones on and I can pretend I don't hear them, but today my headphones were buried in the sea of chaos that is my bedroom, so I left the house without their protective aura, figuring it might be nice to hear the ambient sounds of Portland a few times before I move away. A black man in a car drove past me, slowed down, and honked. Those are easy to ignore, and I did, and kept walking. A second black man on the sidewalk (who had a really cool beard actually) said hello, and I smiled, and he said, "Very sexy." So I thanked him and kept walking. After I had gone twenty feet or so -- a remarkable distance, at least -- he started shouting behind me, "Miss! Excuse me, miss!" and was pretty insistent. Not wanting to be a total bitch, I turned around. "Can I ask you a question?" he said politely.
"Sure," I said.
"What's your name?"
I told him. He introduced himself, but the distance between us was still too great, and I didn't quite catch it. I crossed back to him and shook his hand amiably.
"Now, I know you probably have a boyfriend--"
"I do."
"-- but you are beautiful - the way you carry yourself, and the way you're dressed, and your smile - if he doesn't appreciate you, I just want you to know I live right here." Here he gestured to his apartment complex. At this point I was blushing pretty furiously, but I laughed and thanked him and turned to go.
Just then, the guy who had honked at me from the car earlier pulls up out of nowhere right next to us and honks again with a huge grin on his face. The second fellow started laughing and said, "See? I am not the only one who thinks so!" I could not stop laughing for the rest of the walk home.
Seriously, does that actually work on anyone?
Then my buddy Sami called and we agreed to meet at a tea shop to hang out before I move. Now, listen. I love Sami, but I am well aware that he can be a real flake. He's got a terrible sense of direction and never arrives anywhere on time. (Also, one time, he bought and wore women's perfume, mistaking it for cologne, even though it came in a pink box.) These are things I have grown to love about Sami, but they're true and constant. He just moved to a new house on Belmont, and he suggested a tea shop down on Belmont as well, and I looked it up and found that it was nine blocks from his house on Belmont, and I said, "oh that is very close to where you live on Belmont." You'll note that I repeated Belmont four times in that sentence. I biked down there and sat at a table and waited -- I had switched bags so I could carry my bike lock, and I'd left my phone at home, but I figured it wouldn't really matter. Fifteen minutes after we were supposed to meet, I went ahead and ordered a pot of tea. Forty-five minutes after we were supposed to meet, I paid and left and biked home. This wasn't really a huge surprise to me, but it was a little embarrassing. I get home and there's three missed calls from Sami. "I have walked up and down Hawthorne like three times and I have no idea where this place is."
Oh, Sami.
The reason I relate this story, though, is that I had a pot of EXTREMELY POWERFUL chai, and I have been jittery as shit for the last three hours. I usually don't drink tea with a lot of caffeine in it, but that must have been some incredibly powerful stuff. I actually had a coherent thought that went something like "my god, it feels like my arm muscles are going to vomit." This caffeine rush also accounts for the lengthiness and rather boring nature of this journal entry. Thanks for sticking with me.
( Check out this cool skirt I bought earlier this week. )
I like the buttons.
Okay that's it I'm stopping. My logorrhea must be brought to its knees.
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WHATCHA GONNA DO ABOUT IT
(not the ones I posted the other day but muuuuch cheaper lemme tell ya)
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kativy's journal
