 It was getting real. This project had to be finished in a matter of days. The original did not fit my scanner at home, so I could only scan from the office. Their accounts team had somehow forgotten to get me set up for payment because someone was away. There were more changes. I had run out of projected hours. And I realised at the last minute that I had gotten something wrong about the perspective. Joy. Headaches. Inner peace.
I made it. I worked it out one problem at a time. Got in to work early to scan. Chased up the accounts team and got preliminary approval (in writing). Worked through the changes late at night. Asked for additional hours. Somehow patched up the perspective - I cannot un-see it, but hopefully no one else will notice. Took some Panadol. When the digital image was cleaned up and the final submission email written, all while supervising a toddler, I held my breath and pushed ‘Send’. The feeling of that weight being lifted off my shoulders was extraordinary. It got better when I decided to give the customer a curtesy call to follow up and felt like I was talking to a friend. It got even better when I received a copy of the final completed piece. It was all I could do to not message everyone and let them know. I did it. I finished it. I took the project on on a hunch. Why on earth would this particular company contact me, and how did they even find me? It seemed unreal. It seemed God-appointed. During a conversation I was told: We are glad we took a gamble hiring you. Once your work is well received, there will be further projects. The hard part is getting in. To which I responded: Well, I didn’t do anything… I am still waiting for the payment to come through. And while my husband is lying in bed, snoring, I am still up writing. And I think to myself: This may be my new normal.
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