Page 6 of The Fallacy of True Love
With several of us living in different countries the past couple of years, this was the first time our family would all be together with me and my sisters’ partners too. That was a huge reason to celebrate, and I wished Dani could be there for the whole thing.
Dani squeezed my hand and smiled. “I can’t wait.”
Cam
“Finally.”
Jumping up from my seat, I stretched for the first time in hours. I couldn’t remember when I last went up for air, but now that the coding fog was receding from my brain, I grew aware of two things that needed immediate attention: my bladder and my stomach.
I hurried out to the bathroom and relieved myself.
Was there anything more satisfying than that first bathroom break after hours of working at your desk?
Actually, yes—grabbing your first meal after said session. As a freelance web developer, my work hours ranged from four hours to over twenty-four when I hit my groove or was on a deadline. This time, I’d pulled three consecutive all-nighters, only napping when my eyes grew too bleary to focus on my screen. All my meals—aka pandesal and instant noodles—had been consumed at my desk.
Was it healthy? No.
Did I get the job done? Hell, yes.
Now I needed to switch back into normal human mode, starting with real food. And because I’d just submitted a major project, I figured I deserved to treat myself.
Hitting the first number in my speed dial, I put the call on speaker as I changed out of yesterday’s clothes and into a bikini set.
“Look who’s still alive,” Nikki drawled.
I snorted. “Barely. Need food.”
“Your usual?”
“I just finished a project.”
“Bagnet coming right up,” she said, making me smile with how well she knew me.
“Can you make that two servings with garlic rice? Plus my shake.” Buttoning my denim shorts, I pulled out a sando top from my closet and slipped it on.
Nikki let out a whistle. “Ooh, it’s a celebration.”
“I beat my deadline by—” I glanced at the time on my still-open laptop. “Three hours and nine minutes.”
“Yes, girl. I’ll add extra buko strips.”
My mouth watered at the thought. “You’re the best. Be there in a few.”
“See ya.”
Pocketing my phone, I checked my laptop again, ensuring I’d submitted the invoice for my balance. Everything looked accounted for. Fingers crossed, my client would approve the submission and issue my payment right away.
Then I’d have to wait at least seven working days for the money to land in my bank account. After buying Christmas gifts and paying for rent and my share of the utilities, my savings were running low. It didn’t help that I had no new clients lined up.
Freelancing was great for flexibility, but it wasn’t the most stable career option. I could decide how much work to take on, but each project I completed opened a gap to fill. Even with my recurring clients, I only ever seemed to have just enough to live on for the next month or so. I needed another gig, or I’d have a tough time covering my living expenses come February.
I took a quick peek at the project listings. With the freelance market booming, competition was at an all-time high. It was no longer enough to have the skills and experience. I had to stand out, and more often than not, that boiled down to pricing. One glance confirmed that the going rate for the services I offered was well below my hourly rate.
Call me proud, but I hated pricing myself like I was chump change.
If only pride could pay the bills.
My mood plummeted faster than a burst balloon. Closing my laptop, I grabbed my canvas bag and headed out.
