A Freelancer’s Christmas Carol: The Future – it’s in Oil (BlogFestivus day 4)

A third spirit appeared, dressed, for some reason, in a suit and hard hat. He took my hand and led me to another conference room – this time Scrooge’s. One by one, Scrooge let his technicians go. We watched as their families racked up credit card debt, worried about the mortgage, and scrambled to navigate the affordable health care database. Then the vision worsened.

1-large-cardboard-box-zoomWe stood on a platform on a dark, cold, Minneapolis morning, near a train headed to Bismarck, North Dakota. A small child wept as his father boarded. It was Tim, and the man boarding the train was Bob.

And then I realized the awful truth – the train was heading to the Bakken oil fields.

“No!” I gasped.

“He’ll make a ton of dough,” the spirit said.

“But he’ll end up living in sub-standard housing, working 18 hour days, and eating fast food for weeks on end!”

I woke in a cold sweat.

“I’ll do this stupid project,” I thought, “Not for Scrooge, the old skinflint, but for Bob – because no one should have to leave their family to go to North Dakota in the winter, and live in a trailer with a bunch of other guys!”

Alas, tomorrow BlogFestivus comes to an end, but not before Day 5’s installment: Tiny Tim is Saved

Make sure to visit these other BlogFestivus participants before it’s all over!

Amy penning at Fix it or Deal
Tom over at Shouts from the Abyss
Steve from Stevil
Maria-Christina blogging at MCWhispers
Dylan of Treatment of Visions
Dawn blogging at Lingering  Visions
K8edid from k8edid
Dave bringing it at 1pointperspective
Eileen from Not The Sword But The Pen
Lindsey at RewindRevise
Kandy of Kandy Talk
Sandra writing at In Love With Words
Natalie from So I Went Undercover
Jen at Blog It or Lose It
Amelie from In the Barberry
Cee Cee blogging at Cee Cee’s Blog
Ashley from LittleWonder2
Our fabulous sponsor, BD writing Blogdramedy

and a partridge in a pear tree…Theodore from This Blog Needs A Title

Photo: ukpackingboxes.co.uk

Advertisements

A Freelancer’s Christmas Carol: No Time Like the Present (BlogFestivus day 3)

But I did not sleep easy. It wasn’t long before another spirit appeared – an indifferent looking young woman, stylish in a ratty sort of way.

She took my hand and we flew across snowy fields, stopping in a distant suburb. Bob Cratchit was arriving home from work.

snow scene“Tim,” he shouted, swinging a young boy into the air. A woman appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on a dishtowel.

“Where have you been? I was hoping to do some Christmas shopping this evening.”

Bob’s face clouded over.

“Why don’t you go finish your homework, Tim,” she said.

They watched Tim run down the hall.

“What is it, Bob?”

“I don’t think we should spend a lot on gifts this year. I have a bad feeling. It’s Scrooge…he’s holed up in his office for hours on end, on the phone. There are rumors. I’m afraid the company’s about to go belly up.”

“Well,” she said, “There are alternatives.” They stared at each other in grim-faced silence.

___

I woke and rolled over in bed. “Beat it, spirits,” I muttered. “I don’t like Scrooge and I don’t want to do this project.”

I shut my eyes and tried to salvage the night.

What is Bob’s terrible fate? Find out tomorrow. In the meantime, find links to all the fabulous BlogFestivus participants at blogdramedy.wordpress.com

A Freelancer’s Christmas Carol: An Uneasy Christmas Memory (BlogFestivus day 2)

I was bothered by my meeting with Scrooge. And slightly buzzed. When I reached home I kicked off my shoes, flopped on the couch, and fell asleep.

And then I had the weirdest dream. A young man in a short-sleeved Oxford shirt and glasses appeared in my living room.

“I am the ghost of Christmas past,” he said, pushing up his glasses. “Do you remember a day long ago, a day you dragged yourself to a meeting with a case of stomach flu?”

“No thanks, spirit. I do not need to relive that.”ny-conference-room-table

But suddenly, we were standing at the edge of a conference room. At the front – an older man, dressed in a suit. My boss, Hal.

‘No raises this year,” Hal was saying. “No bonus checks. The company lost money this year because you didn’t work hard enough.”

“That jerk left for a month in Florida the next day,” I grumbled, “That did not make us want to work harder.”

“A poor excuse,” the spirit admonished. “Be self-motivated. Toil for the satisfaction of the work.”

I started awake. It was almost dark. I heaved myself off the couch, watched two hours of HGTV, and went to bed.

Tomorrow: Day III: No time like the present. In the meantime, visit these other BlogFestivus participants:

Amy penning at Fix it or Deal
Tom over at Shouts from the Abyss
Steve from Stevil
Maria-Christina blogging at MCWhispers
Dylan of Treatment of Visions
Dawn blogging at Lingering  Visions
K8edid from k8edid
Dave bringing it at 1pointperspective
Eileen from Not The Sword But The Pen
Lindsey at RewindRevise
Kandy of Kandy Talk
Sandra writing at In Love With Words
Natalie from So I Went Undercover
Jen at Blog It or Lose It
Amelie from In the Barberry
Cee Cee blogging at Cee Cee’s Blog
Ashley from LittleWonder2
And last but certainly not least, our fabulous sponsor, BD writing Blogdramedy

Photo: nyca.com

A Freelancer’s Christmas Carol: Not on Christmas Eve! (BlogFestivus day 1)

The office party was in full swing when I arrived. I wasn’t in the mood for a party but this agency sends me a lot of work. I needed to show up.

champagne_glassesI elbowed my way to my main contact, Jennifer. “So sorry,” I said, “I had to meet with a potential client.”

“This late in the day? On the 23rd?”

“Yes,” I said, “He’s got a meeting on the 27th with a potential buyer for his company and he wants a big, impressive document to hand him when they meet.”

She nodded in commiseration, and looked around the room to see who else had arrived.

“His name is Ebeneezer Scrooge,” I continued. “What kind of name is that? The guy’s a Christmas fruitcake. I don’t think I can get the document done that fast.”

“So don’t do it.”

“I know.” I sighed. “But he’s shutting down the company if he can’t sell it. I feel sorry for his employees. I met one of them, Bob Cratchit. Such a nice guy.”

“I have the cure for guilt,” Jennifer said. She grabbed two glasses of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter.

“Cheers,” she said, as we raised our glasses.

Tomorrow: Day II: An uneasy Christmas memory. (Find links to all the fabulous BlogFestivus participants at blogdramedy.wordpress.com)

Photo: www.intoxicology.net