**The Freelancer's Survival Guide**
By Wes Locher
<img src="https://westonlocher.files.wordpress.com/2017/04/freelancers_featured.jpg" width="550" height="550">
*This interactive story was created by Wes Locher, a writer of comic books and video games, based on the day-to-day challenges of working as a full time freelancer.
To learn more about Wes' comics and games, visit him online at <a href="http://www.weslocher.com" target="new">www.weslocher.com</a>.*
[[Get started!->Level One]]**LEVEL ONE: THE ESCAPE**
<img src="https://westonlocher.files.wordpress.com/2018/01/engineering-cubicles.jpg" width="700" height="450">
After nearly a decade of slaving away under the unflattering fluorescent light bulbs at your nine-to-five job, yesterday was your last day.
[[Continue.->Decade]]Two weeks earlier your boss begrudgingly accepted your letter of resignation. You had slaved over the memo with painstaking detail to ensure it was elegantly written with perfect word choice, cadence and rhythms. When you handed it to your superior, the bastard only skimmed it briefly before tossing it into his "out" box.
Part of you wanted to demand he acknowledge your perfect font choice and clever use of headers and footers, but the other part of you was overtaken by the feel of impending freedom.
While you wanted to be the one to break the good news to your coworkers, Hazel from accounting had overheard you while passing by the boss' office en route to steal a sandwich from the refrigerator.
Hazel told Tiffany, who told Nola, who told Lucas who opened his stupid face to Hugo and, long story short, everyone already knew before you took a step out of the office.
Regardless of how the news got out, it made you the envy of all your peers when you loudly announced at the monthly potluck (to which you once again brought nothing) that after four years of hard work and long nights building up your clientele list, you were going to be freelancing full time.
Not only would you be your own boss and finally live your dream, but you also took the liberty of informing your soon-to-be former coworkers that at your office...
[[Pants would be optional.->Pants]]
[[The day would not begin at 9 a.m.->Day]]
[[Every day would be bring-your-pet-to-work day.->Pet]]<img src="https://westonlocher.files.wordpress.com/2018/01/pants.png" width="500" height="600">
(set: $pants to 1)
...pants will be optional.
Your coworkers practically cheered for you. They didn't *actually* cheer. But you felt they would have if they weren't terrified of Karen in Human Resources.
When the clock struck 5 p.m. you expected a variety of coworkers to pop by your desk to wish you well on your new endeavors, thank you for your hard work, or maybe admit that without you, the department was nothing more than a Titanic headed for an iceberg and beg you to stay. You purposely shuffled through your desk drawer a few extra times pretending to look for a personal affect in order to give people extra time to find you.
When no one said a word, you grabbed your jacket and headed toward the elevators. While making your way onto the lift you realized that regardless of the nice things people had said at the staff meeting earlier, in which your supervisor made it mandatory for everyone to say nice things about you, your coworkers were clearly jealous that you'd found your Midnight Express out of prison while they were being forced to stay behind to rot.
As the elevator doors closed in front of you, Nola and Hugo walked into sight. You put up a hand to wave goodbye and said...
[["May the Force be with you."->Force]]
[["Where we're going, we don't need roads."->Roads]]
[["I aim to misbehave."->Misbehave]]<img src="https://westonlocher.files.wordpress.com/2018/01/day.jpg" width="480" height="320">
(set: $day to 1)
...your day will not begin at 9 a.m. No, it will begin whenever you damn well please.
Your coworkers practically cheered for you. They didn't *actually* cheer. But you felt they would have if they weren't terrified of Karen in Human Resources.
When the clock struck 5 p.m. you expected a variety of coworkers to pop by your desk to wish you well on your new endeavors, thank you for your hard work, or maybe admit that without you, the department was nothing more than a Titanic headed for an iceberg and beg you to stay. You purposely shuffled through your desk drawer a few extra times pretending to look for a personal affect in order to give people extra time to find you.
When no one said a word, you grabbed your jacket and headed toward the elevators. While making your way onto the lift you realized that regardless of the nice things people had said at the staff meeting earlier, in which your supervisor made it mandatory for everyone to say nice things about you, your coworkers were clearly jealous that you'd found your Midnight Express out of prison while they were being forced to stay behind to rot.
As the elevator doors closed in front of you, Nola and Hugo walked into sight. You put up a hand to wave goodbye and said...
[["May the Force be with you."->Force]]
[["Where we're going, we don't need roads."->Roads]]
[["I aim to misbehave."->Misbehave]]<img src="https://westonlocher.files.wordpress.com/2018/01/pettowork.jpg" width="400" height="567">
(set: $pet to 1)
...everyday will be bring-your-pet-to-work day.
Your coworkers practically cheered for you. They didn't *actually* cheer. But you felt they would have if they weren't terrified of Karen in Human Resources.
When the clock struck 5 p.m. you expected a variety of coworkers to pop by your desk to wish you well on your new endeavors, thank you for your hard work, or maybe admit that without you, the department was nothing more than a Titanic headed for an iceberg and beg you to stay. You purposely shuffled through your desk drawer a few extra times pretending to look for a personal affect in order to give people extra time to find you.
When no one said a word, you grabbed your jacket and headed toward the elevators. While making your way onto the lift you realized that regardless of the nice things people had said at the staff meeting earlier, in which your supervisor made it mandatory for everyone to say nice things about you, your coworkers were clearly jealous that you'd found your Midnight Express out of prison while they were being forced to stay behind to rot.
As the elevator doors closed in front of you, Nola and Hugo walked into sight. You put up a hand to wave goodbye and said...
[["May the Force be with you."->Force]]
[["Where we're going, we don't need roads."->Roads]]
[["I aim to misbehave."->Misbehave]]<img src="https://westonlocher.files.wordpress.com/2018/01/force.jpg" width="724" height="249">
..."May the force be with you!"
Nola and Hugo looked up from their desks and gave you a blank stare. You were hit with a tinge of regret at your final words, thinking maybe you should have prepared something better.
Once the doors clanked shut you came to the conclusion that those fools had probably never even see the Star Wars films, let alone committed ninety percent of the dialogue to memory. And if they had seen them, they probably thought the prequel films were the "good ones."
As you rode the elevator to the lobby, alone with your thoughts, you had the feeling you were leaving a piece of yourself behind on the tenth floor... along with your medical benefits, 401k, reliable salary and any hope of retirement.
The fear passed as soon as you remembered that you were soon going to be living your dreams... and maybe hitting your parents up for some cash.
[[Continue.->Level Two]]<img src="https://westonlocher.files.wordpress.com/2018/01/roads.jpg" width="724" height="276">
..."Where we're going, we don't need roads!"
Hugo and Nola looked up from their desks and gave you a blank stare. You were hit with a tinge of regret at your final words, thinking maybe you should have prepared something better.
Once the doors clanked shut you came to the conclusion that those fools had probably never even see the Back to the Future films, let alone committed ninety percent of their dialogue to memory. You pondered why everyone was making it so difficult to potentially miss them.
As you rode the elevator to the lobby, alone with your thoughts, you had the feeling you were leaving a piece of yourself behind on the tenth floor... along with your medical benefits, 401k, reliable salary and any hope of retirement.
The fear passed as soon as you remembered that you were soon going to be living your dreams... and maybe hitting your parents up for some cash.
[[Continue.->Level Two]]<img src="https://westonlocher.files.wordpress.com/2018/01/misbehave.jpg" width="650" height="360">
..."I aim to misbehave!"
Hugo and Nola looked up from their desks long enough to give you a blank stare. You were hit with a tinge of regret at your final words, thinking maybe you should have prepared something better.
Once the doors clanked shut you came to the conclusion that those fools had probably never even see the genius albeit canceled-to-soon brilliance that was Firefly, let alone committed ninety percent of the dialogue to memory. And if they had seen it, they probably didn't think it was life changing.
As you rode the elevator to the lobby, alone with your thoughts, you had the feeling you were leaving a piece of yourself behind on the tenth floor... along with your medical benefits, 401k, reliable salary and any hope of retirement.
The fear passed as soon as you remembered that you were soon going to be living your dreams... and maybe hitting your parents up for some cash.
[[Continue.->Level Two]]**LEVEL TWO: THE FIRST DAY OF THE REST OF YOUR LIFE (OR AT LEAST THE NEXT COUPLE MONTHS)**
<img src="https://westonlocher.files.wordpress.com/2018/01/moving.jpg" width="285" height="300">
Your eyes shoot open as soon as your alarm starts blaring at 8 a.m.
[[Continue.->Eyes]]Apparently you set the alarm out of habit before going to bed last night. It's a cruel way to start your first day of your new life as a full time freelancer. You vow never to make that mistake again. (You will continue to make it daily over the next month.)
While you're filled with nervous energy about your new adventure, your cat totally doesn't care about the major milestone and is meowing like crazy, as though she hasn't been fed in 72 hours. Never mind the fact that if the living room was on fire, the cat wouldn't make a sound. As your hand hovers over the alarm clock, Puff Puff scuttles to the corner where she glares in your direction, no doubt pondering whether you're going to get your butt out of the bed, or if today is going to be the day that she finally tastes human flesh.
Like a responsible adult, who is now self-employed, you...
[[Get out of bed and feed the cat.->Feed cat]]
[[Hit snooze.->Snooze]]
[[Turn the alarm off.->Alarm off]]<img src="https://westonlocher.files.wordpress.com/2018/01/feedcat.jpg" width="720" height="450">
...make your way out of the bed to feed the cat.
After all, you're a responsible pet owner, and reminded of the fact all the way down the hall as Puff Puff nips at your heels, herding you toward the kitchen.
You'd like to pee and maybe start some coffee before feeding her, but you remember that the cat will never allow you to put your wants and desires ahead of hers.
As you empty the kibble into her dish, thinking about your day, the cat is already planning ahead to 10:30 a.m. where she will sit in the bathtub and scream for an hour straight for no earthly reason.
In the kitchen you start the coffee and thumb through your phone to see if there are any pressing emails which require your immediate attention. After all, you're now "on call" and look forward to deciding which of your clients will actually get your full attention before 6 p.m. for once.
You mentally make your to-do list as you sip your coffee (which you made way too strong and will regret around 2 p.m.) and decide that just because you don't have to be anywhere at any particular time, you shouldn't start the day off like a civilized human.
With that in mind, you decide to...
[[Take a shower.->Shower yes]]
[[Not take a shower.->Shower no]]<img src="https://westonlocher.files.wordpress.com/2018/01/snooze.jpg" width="700" height="367">
...hit the snooze button.
Come on... you didn't *really* think you'd wake up at 8 a.m. if you didn't have to, right?
The cat's meows fade into the distance as you drift off for another ten minutes, hoping you can find your way back to that dream where you'd just won the lottery and your student loans had been paid off by a mysterious benefactor.
When the alarm goes off again and Puff Puff runs into the room to see if you're still alive, you swing your legs out of bed and officially begin the first day of the rest of your life. Or at least that's what you tell yourself as you walk toward the kitchen, thinking of the perfect line to explain the gaps in your resume at your next job interview.
As you empty Puff Puff's kibble into the dish, the apartment goes silent allowing you to actually concentrate on what comes next.
In the kitchen you start the coffee and thumb through your phone to see if there are any pressing emails which require your immediate attention. After all, you're now "on call" and look forward to deciding which of your clients will actually get your full attention before 6 p.m. for once.
You mentally make your to-do list as you sip your coffee (which you made way too strong and will regret around 2 p.m.) and decide that just because you don't have to be anywhere at any particular time, you shouldn't start the day off like a civilized human.
With that in mind, you decide to...
[[Take a shower.->Shower yes]]
[[Not take a shower.->Shower no]]<img src="https://westonlocher.files.wordpress.com/2018/01/alarmoff.png" width="600" height="400">
...turn the alarm off. **BECAUSE YOU CAN.**
When you finally wake up, just after noon, you feel cleansed, refreshed, and only slightly like a failure.
The cat has given up on getting any food and is nowhere to be seen. Either Puff Puff will make a showing in the next few minutes or you'll eventually find a cat skeleton inside one of the closets when you finally move out.
You forgive yourself for sleeping in "just this once" while you think about your former coworkers who have already been slaving away for over four hours in a room full of computers and white walls.
As you pass your office, you glance through the open door at the white walls. Your computer awaits you at your desk. You vow to purchase paint over the weekend.
In the kitchen you start the coffee and thumb through your phone to see if there are any pressing emails which require your immediate attention. After all, you're now "on call" and look forward to deciding which of your clients will actually get your full attention before 6 p.m. for once.
You mentally make your to-do list as you sip your coffee (which you made way too strong and will regret around 2 p.m.) and decide that just because you don't have to be anywhere at any particular time, you shouldn't start the day off like a civilized human.
With that in mind, you decide to...
[[Take a shower.->Shower yes]]
[[Not take a shower.->Shower no]]<img src="https://westonlocher.files.wordpress.com/2018/01/showeryes.jpg" width="700" height="600">
(set: $shower to 1)
...take a shower.
After all, just because you don't *have* to leave the house, it doesn't mean you have to live like a complete neanderthal.
Before getting in, you vow that part of taking your freelance life seriously will be to take a shower each day before you begin working. Deep down, both you and the cat know you're lying to yourself.
You emerge feeling refreshed, victorious and ready for the day.
Puff Puff shows her equal enthusiasm by hacking up a hairball onto your bare foot.
[[Continue.->Level Three]]<img src="https://westonlocher.files.wordpress.com/2018/01/showerno-e1516568490273.jpg" width="500" height="666">
...skip the shower.
After all, who the heck do you have to impress? The cat?
The cat is going to hate you regardless.
[[Continue.->Level Three]]**LEVEL THREE: DOWN TO BUSINESS**
<img src="https://westonlocher.files.wordpress.com/2018/01/downtobiz1.jpg" width="400" height="400">
Feeling as though you have a handle on what your daily routine will be, you pour another cup of coffee and head into the office.
[[Continue.->Feeling]]The cat follows you inside and contorts herself into an odd position in the corner while you open the Venetian blinds, allowing the daylight to flood in.
Focused and prepared to do some life-changing work, you sit down at your desk, and flip open the laptop cover, the screen illuminating to show your desktop.
A glance at the clock reminds you that it's still early. In fact, you have a whole day ahead of you. Why start working now? Why not treat yourself to a little bit of downtime?
The more you think about it, the more you realize that due to working weekends and vacation time being frowned on at the office, it's been years since you actually had a chance to relax.
You take a deep breath, give your knuckles a good popping, and proceed to...
[[Procrastinate.->Procrastinate]]
[[Get to work.->Get work]]<img src="https://westonlocher.files.wordpress.com/2018/01/gettowork.jpg" width="500" height="701">
...Get to work.
You harness the focus coursing through your veins and your hands move around the keyboard with precision and timing you never knew you had.
Hours drop off the clock as you enter *the zone,* finding your way to that special place where your muse is waiting with the perfect cup of black coffee in hand.
In *the zone,* those constant feelings of self doubt disappear, replaced with a strong, silent confidence as you remember that you were hired because people believed you were the best person for the job. And here you are: in the position to prove them right.
Finishing the first project and feeling like you crushed it, you email off the files to be reviewed and lean back in your chair.
You offer a high five to Puff Puff, but she's snoring silently in the corner. Maybe later.
Stretching your arms, you consider rewarding yourself for staying focused on your first day as a freelancer and sticking to the ethos you knew would make you a success.
After all, a break is sure to re-energize your creative well for project number two, right?
You opt to...
[[Take a break.->Take break]]
[[Keep working.->Keep working]]<img src="https://westonlocher.files.wordpress.com/2018/01/keepworking-e1516568729565.jpg" width="500" height="300">
...Keep working.
Fearful of losing the creative momentum you've built, you crack open another computer file and begin the next project.
You've already churned out some of the best work of your life today, but you feel there's still more in the well ready to be unleashed.
Inspiration seeps from every pore as you systematically, like a futuristic robot designed only for extreme creative output, knock out every each and every item on your to-do list.
Not only do you finish all of your projects well before deadline, but you achieve what can only be described as freelancer nirvana. You've proven to yourself and every nay-sayer that you are more driven, ambitious, and capable than anyone ever gave you credit for.
Including yourself.
It dawns on you that you probably should have quit that day job months ago. But maybe you weren't ready.
Now, you are the definition of ready.
You've hit level 99, unlocked all the achievements, and learned all the cheat codes for the freelance life. Through hard work, you are living your dream and paying your rent with money leftover to spare.
You might event take a vacation. But that's another hurdle for another time.
For now, you've found a system that works and you swear aloud to both yourself and Puff Puff that every day will be this awesome.
In response, the cat licks her butt.
<img src="https://westonlocher.files.wordpress.com/2018/01/highfive-e1516568775980.png" width="500" height="500">
**THE END.**
[[Play again?->Start]]<img src="https://westonlocher.files.wordpress.com/2018/01/procrastinate-e1516568836197.jpg" width="500" height="330">
...Procrastinate.
After all, you don't have a boss looking over your shoulder. No one's going to chastise you, threaten to make you work overtime, or notify Karen in HR of your behavior.
For your next order of business you decide to...
[[Check your Twitter feed.->Twitter]]
[[Check your Facebook feed.->Facebook]]
[[Check your email.->Email]]
[[Play with the cat.->Cat]]
[[Watch TV.->TV]]
[[Text message a friend.->Text]]<img src="https://westonlocher.files.wordpress.com/2018/01/twitter-e1516568884265.png" width="500" height="281">
(set: $twitter to 1)
(set: $distraction += 1)
...Check your Twitter feed.
You scroll through your feed, catching up on breaking news and the memes of the day. At one point, a video montage of people falling down to music makes you laugh so hard that you shoot coffee out of nose.
You search specifically for several freelancers who inspired you to ditch your day job in the first place. A quick scroll reveals no new postings, thoughts or industry secrets since the previous night.
They must all be busy working.
The realization stings. All those times you'd thought, "If I just had eight full hours to dedicate to this..." and you just spent sixty precious minutes going down the rabbit hole of *"15 Cats That Look Like Eddie Vedder."*
Slightly embarrassed by having wasted precious time on your first day, you take a hypocritical glance and your hypocritical clock tells you that an hour has already gone by and your hypocritical stomach rumbles, reminding you that lunch is fast approaching. You and the cat both know it's time to make some magic happen. It's time to focus.
For your next order of business you decide to...
(if: $distraction is 6)[[[Get to work.->Get work bad]]]
(if: $facebook is 0)[[[Check your Facebook feed.->Facebook]]]
(if: $email is 0)[[[Check your email.->Email]]]
(if: $cat is 0)[[[Play with the cat.->Cat]]]
(if: $tv is 0)[[[Watch TV.->TV]]]
(if: $text is 0)[[[Text message a friend.->Text]]]<img src="https://westonlocher.files.wordpress.com/2018/01/facebook-e1516568937523.jpg" width="500" height="374">
(set: $facebook to 1)
(set: $distraction += 1)
...Check your Facebook feed.
At this point in the day your feed is pretty quiet. The main stories include your high school pal Julie announcing she's pregnant and your college buddy Robert providing his results to an online quiz he's taken called "Which X-Man would you be?" (Robert has gotten a result of Shatterstar and is quite displeased.)
You scroll down and down the feed hoping to see some mention from your office pals about them missing you, but there's nothing to be found.
You decide perhaps they simply need a forum for expressing their feelings. You navigate to the status box and begin typing.
*"I have quit my day job. Initiate freelance sequence: GO!"*
You click the post button and sit back to see what type of conversation will kick up. Admittedly, some support from your peers would do your ego good and keep the fear of paying next month's rent at bay for at least another week.
You continue to stare at the screen as your post begins to drown beneath a flood of photos showing what your friends are currently having for lunch.
You step away from the computer to use the bathroom, confident when you return you'll have several replies to field. As you close the bathroom door your cat follows you in. Once the door is closed, Puff Puff begins scratching frenetically at the door frame as though she's been locked in the lavatory with a cat-eating monster.
You pause your business to open the door a crack. Puff Puff runs out. You close the door behind her and return to your deeds and immediately she begins scratching again, desperate to be let in.
When you return to your office you're able to locate your post and are saddened to see that it's been liked by only one person: your mother. Meanwhile, in the post above yours, Nikki's kale salad has received more likes than you have total Facebook friends.
You tell yourself not to stress it. Your friends are just busy. It's not like your self-worth was riding on the social validation of the post, right?
The realization stings. All those times you'd thought, "If I just had eight full hours to dedicate to this..." and you just spent close to an hour getting mad at an inanimate kale salad, which apparently is more popular than you.
You close the browser window in disgust and vow not to look at the site for the rest of the day.
Or at least a few hours.
For your next order of business you decide to...
(if: $distraction is 6)[[[Get to work.->Get work bad]]]
(if: $twitter is 0)[[[Check your Twitter feed.->Twitter]]]
(if: $email is 0)[[[Check your email.->Email]]]
(if: $cat is 0)[[[Play with the cat.->Cat]]]
(if: $tv is 0)[[[Watch TV.->TV]]]
(if: $text is 0)[[[Text message a friend.->Text]]]<img src="https://westonlocher.files.wordpress.com/2018/01/email.jpg" width="480" height="319">
(set: $email to 1)
(set: $distraction += 1)
...Check your email.
Things are quiet in the mailbox for now, but as clients begin to wake across time zones and international timelines, you know things will begin buzzing soon.
You take the opportunity to catch up on several newsletters, daily digests and an email from someone overseas interested in procuring your bank account information in order to send you several million dollars to hold onto for a few days.
You also steal a few seconds to send your buddy Doug a link to a hilarious video of people walking into closed sliding glass doors. You saw him do that one time and he left a face print behind that actually looked just like him. It was nuts.
You hit "send" and kick back, waiting for him to hit you back with a bunch of LOLs, smiley emoticons and maybe a "ROFL" if he thought it was super funny, but your inbox stays silent.
Then you remember Doug can't watch videos at his day job because the firewall in his office is locked down tighter than Charles Manson.
But, to Doug's credit, he's working. Meanwhile, you've just clicked the refresh button on your browser for the 232nd time.
The realization stings. All those times you'd thought, "If I just had eight full hours to dedicate to this..." and you just spent sixty precious minutes trying to find the right word to describe how sliding glass doors made you feel.
Irritated, you close the email tab. No more distractions. The procrastination ends here and now.
For your next order of business you decide to...
(if: $distraction is 6)[[[Get to work.->Get work bad]]]
(if: $twitter is 0)[[[Check your Twitter feed.->Twitter]]]
(if: $facebook is 0)[[[Check your Facebook feed.->Facebook]]]
(if: $cat is 0)[[[Play with the cat.->Cat]]]
(if: $tv is 0)[[[Watch TV.->TV]]]
(if: $text is 0)[[[Text message a friend.->Text]]]<img src="https://westonlocher.files.wordpress.com/2018/01/cat.jpg" width="500" height="523">
{(set: $cat to 1) (set: $distraction += 1)}
...Play with the cat.
You reach down toward your feet to grab the cat's favorite toy, all of which seem to end up underneath your desk. You shuffle aside the expensive catnip-filled mice and plastic balls containing jingling bells to get the one item Puff Puff will actually pay attention to: the crinkled up piece of newspaper.
You wave it in front of her a few times before chucking it across the room where it bounces off the wall. Puff Puff pauses briefly from licking her butt to look at you, but after a moment's consideration, she goes back to the task at hand.
You walk across the room to retrieve the ball of paper, tossing it over and over with the same result: a bored look of disdain. You toss the wadded up paper a few more times.
After giving yourself quite the workout you return to the computer, defeated. Even the cat is working too hard to spend any time with you.
The realization hits home. All those times you'd thought, "If I just had eight full hours to dedicate to this..." and you just spent sixty precious minutes trying to get the cat to think you're more interesting than it's rear end.
For your next order of business you decide to...
(if: $distraction is 6)[[[Get to work.->Get work bad]]]
(if: $twitter is 0)[[[Check your Twitter feed.->Twitter]]]
(if: $facebook is 0)[[[Check your Facebook feed.->Facebook]]]
(if: $email is 0)[[[Check your email.->Email]]]
(if: $tv is 0)[[[Watch TV.->TV]]]
(if: $text is 0)[[[Text message a friend.->Text]]]<img src="https://westonlocher.files.wordpress.com/2018/01/tv-e1516569998401.jpg" width="500" height="375">
(set: $tv to 1)
(set: $distraction += 1)
...Watch some TV.
Even though you pay money each month for access to streaming media services like NetFlix, Hulu and Amazon, you can't recall the last time you actually had time to watch any of them.
By the time you got home from your day job, you were physically and mentally exhausted and your prime directives included only food and the bed.
Now, you might actually have time to catch up on some of those shows that people talked about at work... ones you were forced to *pretend* to have watched in order to stay relevant in the conversation.
Kicking your feet up on the couch, you launch the Hulu app to see what's good.
Seven hours go by.
You're unsure where the time has gone. You were there, but it felt like one of those out-of-body experiences as you watched yourself veg out, unable to interfere and stop yourself.
The only thing you *are* sure of is that you've binge-watched almost an entire season of *The Voice.*
You're don't even know how it happened, especially considering you don't care for popular music, but you feel like you know the judges on a personal level, have forgiven Carson Daly for TRL, and have developed strong feelings and emotional attachments toward several contestants.
You decide the show is pure evil.
All those times you'd thought, "If I just had eight full hours to dedicate to this..." and you just spent seven precious hours being suckered in by Blake Shelton's quasi-southern charm.
You tear yourself away from the television screen, swearing that it's soft and comforting incandescent glow will control you no longer.
You make your way back to the office and sit down at your desk.
For your next order of business you decide to...
(if: $distraction is 6)[[[Get to work.->Get work bad]]]
(if: $twitter is 0)[[[Check your Twitter feed.->Twitter]]]
(if: $facebook is 0)[[[Check your Facebook feed.->Facebook]]]
(if: $email is 0)[[[Check your email.->Email]]]
(if: $cat is 0)[[[Play with the cat.->Cat]]]
(if: $text is 0)[[[Text message a friend.->Text]]]<img src="https://westonlocher.files.wordpress.com/2018/01/text-e1516570038309.jpg" width="500" height="333">
(set: $text to 1)
(set: $distraction += 1)
...Text message a friend.
You scoop up your phone and kick open the messages app, hoping to stir up some conversation with someone other than Puff Puff.
In need of an ego boost, and thinking it might be fun for someone at the office to hear from you, you address the message to Hugo.
{
(if: $pants is 1)["Guess who's not wearing pants today?"] (if: $day is 1)["Guess who started their day when they wanted to?"] (if: $pet is 1)["Guess who brought their cat to work?"]
}
You wonder whether Hugo will be overcome by jealousy at your bold statement. In fact, you feel confident that he'll show it to Nola and the others.
You believe you're just seconds from being invited to their work text group chat where you'll spend the next thirty minutes hanging out and talking trash about your former boss.
You don't even work there anymore and yet you'll be all anyone's talking about.
The ellipses pops up on your screen as Hugo prepares his response. Will it be shock? Awe? A combination of both?
After disappearing and reappearing several times, the three little dots hold steady and Hugo's response appears.
"Who dis?"
The wind rips out of your sails. You haven't even been gone from the office for twenty-four hours and Hugo has apparently already deleted you from his contacts list.
Despite feeling wronged that it took Hugo close to five minutes to type a two-word response, you persevere, spending the next few minutes trying to remind him that it's you... y'know, the one who quit their job to pursue their dreams.
When it doesn't seem to be ring any bells, you throw the phone aside in disgust.
You had assumed that you'd keep your work friends when you left, maybe meet up on Thursday nights for happy hour at the Ale House. Your naiveté was simply guarding you from a harsh truth: since you didn't work in the office, you didn't really have anything in common with them anymore.
The realization hits home. All those times you'd thought, "If I just had eight full hours to dedicate to this..." and you just spent thirty precious minutes trying to emoji your way back into a complete stranger's life.
For your next order of business you decide to...
(if: $distraction is 6)[[[Get to work.->Get work bad]]]
(if: $twitter is 0)[[[Check your Twitter feed.->Twitter]]]
(if: $facebook is 0)[[[Check your Facebook feed.->Facebook]]]
(if: $email is 0)[[[Check your email.->Email]]]
(if: $cat is 0)[[[Play with the cat.->Cat]]]
(if: $tv is 0)[[[Watch TV.->TV]]]<img src="https://westonlocher.files.wordpress.com/2018/01/backtowork.jpg" width="400" height="400">
...Get to work.
You've procrastinated long enough and a quick glance at your inbox shows that several clients have already checked in to get an update or ETA on their projects.
You started your day ahead, but suddenly you find yourself behind. And not just *slightly* behind, but, like, last-place-in-the-marathon behind. It's already mid-afternoon and you've accomplished nothing.
Well, not *entirely* nothing.
{
(if: $shower is 1)[After all you did take a shower.<br>
That's worth something, right?]
(else:)[You did take a shower, right?<br>
Oh, wait. You skipped that. You neanderthal.]
}
You do some quick mathematics to multiply the amount of work left to do with the number of hours left in the day.
While you lack the right-brain power to compute this number in your head, deep down you don't really want to know the answer.
You consider clicking back to Facebook to see how the kale salad is faring in likes, but you're afraid it might be what puts you over the edge.
You're tired now, exhausted by work you haven't done. To make matters worse, an email from a stranger has come in with an offer that could pay your rent for the next several months. But because they need a 48-hour turnaround, and your plate is still full, you have to politely decline.
You decide to take a nap, hoping that when you awake, you'll be in a better state of mind, and ready to power through some work.
You wake up seven hours later. You have overslept by six.
It's dark outside now, and as you climb out of bed, Puff Puff's hunger-filled yowling fades in from down the hallway.
Despite it being the first thing you normally do, you avoid your phone completely. You have no interest in seeing what your clients might be saying and the last thing you want to do is come up with lame excuses as to why they haven't received what you promised.
After all, you need to be awake before you come up with these stories.
After feeding the cat you grab your phone and take a quick glance through your inbox.
The good news is that there's no work to be done tonight.
The bad news is that all of your clients have dropped you and there's no work to be done for the foreseeable future.
You quickly email the prospective client from earlier, notifying him of your change in schedule, but a vacation auto-responder informs you he'll be out of town for the next several years.
You return to your bedroom and crumple into a heap on the bed. In the dark. Alone.
As though sensing your fragile state, Puff Puff jumps into your lap. You smile, knowing at least you have her.
As if on cue, Puff Puff barfs up her dinner onto your shirt and disappears from the room.
You realize maybe you weren't truly cut out for the freelance lifestyle and this was simply a wake up call. A trial by fire. A lesson learned.
Maybe you didn't have what it takes to succeed, but you're proud of yourself for at least giving it a shot.
[[Continue.->Bad ending]]
(set: $shower to 0)
(set: $twitter to 0)
(set: $facebook to 0)
(set: $email to 0)
(set: $cat to 0)
(set: $tv to 0)
(set: $distraction to 0)
(set: $pet to 0)
(set: $day to 0)
(set: $pants to 0)<img src="https://westonlocher.files.wordpress.com/2018/01/badending-e1516570110652.jpg" width="500" height="281">
You spend the next couple days looking at jobs online, ultimately finding an office gig that suits your skills and personality.
You interview. You are hired.
You get medical insurance, a 401k, and stock options. Life isn't so bad.
In the nine years that go by, you're recognized for your talents, receive multiple Employee of the Month awards, and are ultimately promoted.
Everything is wonderful... until one day, you realize you aren't quite living your dreams. You get a familiar itch.
It ends in a familiar decision. And after nearly a decade of slaving away under the unflattering fluorescent light bulbs at your nine-to-five job, yesterday was your last day.
[[Continue.->Decade]]<img src="https://westonlocher.files.wordpress.com/2018/01/break-e1516571708512.jpg" width="500" height="329">
...Take a break.
After all, you don't have a boss looking over your shoulder. No one's going to chastise you, threaten to make you work overtime, or notify Karen in HR of your behavior.
For your next order of business you decide to...
[[Check your Twitter feed.->Twitter]]
[[Check your Facebook feed.->Facebook]]
[[Check your email.->Email]]
[[Play with the cat.->Cat]]
[[Watch TV.->TV]]
[[Text message a friend.->Text]]