Ordered on the 2nd January, our new suite has FINALLY arrived. YAAAAYY!!!!
After a false start before Easter, the big white lorry turned up on our drive a few minutes ago and as I type a couple of burly blokes are assembling my lovely new settee.
You can always tell how posh a person is by the words they use. A posh person would never say settee. A posh person would say sofa. Calling it a settee means I’ve well and truly given away my working class roots. Damn, and I got away with it for so long!
So other than the excitement of a new so-fa, what else has been happening? Bugger all, that’s what.
We have a wedding booked at a terribly posh venue tomorrow, in this instance posh means expensive. I’ve never worked there before and I’m really looking forward to it. I’ve even bought another camera especially for the occasion. Why can’t I just be like normal women and buy shoes or chocolate when I get hormonal? Even a pair of Jimmy Choo’s is cheaper than a big f**k off pro camera.
Being a professional photographer means that I get asked all the time by ‘friends’ to take photos. Real friends never ask me to work for free. I’m talking about ‘friends’.
“We’re having a party and you’re invited. Don’t forget to bring your camera along.” “I’ve got this product to sell, will you take photos for for me?”
Being the non confrontational person I am I usually say yes even though I’m quite sometimes narked by it. It always strikes me as a bit cheeky. I wouldn’t ask them to give me their product for free, why do they feel it’s ok to ask me to give mine away for free. What makes my product less valuable than theirs?
Answer: Me being a wuss and agreeing to do it.
I spend more bloody time working for free than I do getting paid. More fool me.
This all came to a head a couple of weeks ago when a ‘friend’ once again asked me to photograph some products for free. During a pre shoot chat he smarmily mentioned that my last photos were so good they’d, “made their way onto a few other websites.” I looked up from my coffee and garibaldi.
“Yes, a few other sites have picked them up and decided to use them.”
He was clearly expecting me to simper and be all thrilled that I’d got my photos ‘out there’.
Exit wuss. Enter Godzilla.
“WHAAAT? Well, you’d better let me have the names of these ‘other websites’ and I’ll get in touch and have a little word about copyright theft.”
At this point he realised that he might have made a small error of judgement with his last comment and tried to brush it off by saying, and I quote: “Relaaaax, it’s all good.”
By now the red mist had well and truly descended. Not only have I done a ‘friend’ a favour, saving him upwards of £300 and had my work stolen, now he decides to patronise me in the process.
“Good? There’s nothing good about it. This is how I earn my living. It’s theft as surely as if they’d lifted something off a shelf in a supermarket. I let you have those photos in good faith and now they’re being stolen left right and centre and you’re ok with that?” Just tell me where they are and I’ll contact them to get them removed a bit bloody sharpish.”
All of that last little bit came out in one, loud, fast, garbled flood of words. I was incandescent with fury.
A small glimmer of realisation that I might not be best pleased came into his eyes, along with a larger glimmer of “SHIT! I passed the photos on, I’m in deep dooodoo.’
“Um, um, I’ll sort it out, leave it with me.”
So it transpires that, my ‘friend’ decided to pass them on to all and sundry. Thanks a bunch ‘friend’.
Think I may finally have learned a lesson.