Many years ago I was a free-lance musician and teacher. A small publishing company learned I had some computer expertise and hired me part-time (10–15 hrs/wk) to create graphics for their publications. When I started the job, I made clear that this was my “moonlighting” job, and that my free-lancing and teaching would always take priority. They were cutting-edge in desktop publishing, and I learned a lot and enjoyed the work.
The company was owned and run by three partners: Mr. Tallman, Mr. Short, and Ms. Petit. Tallman was a tech genius, and I enjoyed my frequent discussions with him about the tricks of using brand-new software like Adobe Illustrator and Quark Express. He occasionally commented on how much he learned just from watching me work.
I believed I was doing my best and giving them what they needed, but every so often I was called into Mr. Short’s office and reamed about how I had my priorities all wrong because I wouldn’t drop my gigs and my lessons to work extra hours to help them meet a deadline. “I have a business to run,” he would yell. I was always deflated, but insisted I had my own business, and could not miss a gig or a lesson because they needed more hours.
After 4 or 5 years of this, Short called me in and informed me the partners had decided to let me go. He ranted for awhile about how I had never even bought them a pizza. He was in the habit of giving somewhat expensive gifts (like a CD player—the latest new tech) which I would accept with gratitude and puzzlement, but I never knew he expected any kind of reciprocity, and still don’t know what pizza had to do with anything.
I was crushed, but moved on with my life, which was getting busier anyway. At this point my wife had a good job, so we didn’t miss the meager income.
About 6 months later, I got a phone call from Mr. Tallman. “We’ve decided we need you back. Can we meet to talk about it?” After ascertaining I would be seeing only Tallman, I agreed to meet at a coffee shop.
At our meeting, Tallman (who was extremely suave and very persuasive) explained that my ingenuity, my speed, and my accuracy, were missed, and the partners had resolved to ask me to come back. I stipulated that if I were to return, I would report only to Tallman, never to Short; in fact would rather have no contact with Short; and I would need a higher wage. I also would never be expected to shortchange my regular job because they faced a deadline.
He agreed without hesitation. I did return, continued to enjoy the work and the camaraderie, and never got another criticism in all the next 15+ years until Tallman’s retirement, which corresponded with mine. My occasional contacts with Short were slightly awkward, but never too uncomfortable. And the skills I developed in that part-time job still serve me almost every day. Life is sweet!