adore amy

i did it (all) my way…

Well some cause for celebration indeed – the final site (for the time being) to be caught out using my copyrighted text has finally removed it, following almost six weeks of emails, variously apportioned blame and buck-passing and eventually a formal complaint by me to the hosting company, a course of action I would highly recommend to other ladies with the same problem. The website hosts (and I have so far had to contact four) without exception have been efficient, polite and understanding and above all impressively fast – having been accustomed to writing variously terse letters of complaint over the years to the usual gamut of persistent offenders (electricity companies, the local council, online shopping sites and so on), I was stunned to receive in all cases timely, relevant responses and accompanied by credible promises of affirmative action too! Who knew? In the spirit of good triumphing over evil (or whatever), I have celebrated by finally starting work on three new sets of pictures; see above sneak preview for some impromptu Scarborough-style Hollywood glam, (I will admit to still coughing from the ostrich feathers, and have almost certainly been watching far too many old films but it was all good fun nonetheless – those with more conventional taste in prossie-pics, don’t worry, there is plenty of more trad stuff on the way, or at least as trad as I ever get).

However, the whole debacle did prompt me to ponder how far anybody should reasonably be expected to go in terms of taking responsibility for their advertising, particularly if written English, designs and layouts and general marketing nous isn’t really, well, their thing. Leaving aside the issue of plagiarism which is in my view unforgivable whatever the circumstances (and equally, I’m not talking about calling on a mate to proofread and so forth which I have done for plenty of folk myself), when is it better to get stuck in and be able to take pride in your hard work, knowing that it is all your hard work, and at what point do we say – ‘Hmm, I’m not actually very good at this. Nah. Best get somebody else to do it and no one’ll ever know’. To me, this is when things get, well, a bit fuzzy.

As those who know me well will be very much aware, my mathematics in general (and mental arithmatic in particular) is such that I would never, ever be able to fill in a tax form by myself; as I have stated before, I could not score a darts game with a gun held to my head and whilst a Self Assessment form is hardly decimal fractions, even the sight of a page of figures literally makes me want to burst into tears and faint dead away (we’re back to the old movie ladies again). Therefore, I pay my fabulous accountant to do it it for me – he is worth every penny, and I have never, ever claimed that I do it all myself. I would probably still be paying for pro-photographs had I not been so disappointed with the second (and last) set I had taken, but two years later I’m very glad I am not and as far as I can tell, so are my lovely punters.

Apart from that, I’m (along with most of the ladies I know personally in one way or another) apparently in something of a minority – I write everything on my own site and am responsible for all my own odds and ends of advertising blurb (I certainly did not put the site together in the first place, and am still completely untechy – the patience of my longsuffering website lady in teaching me how to add, edit and prat about with it knew and still knows no bounds), I take my own pictures and do all of the resizing and faffing before I upload them to my Gallery. It should go without saying that I answer my own phone and emails (it still amazes me how many people ring and ask if they can speak to Amy) and I had always assumed that all other genuine independent workers were the same, but it seems not. This week I have not only heard about a lady who had no idea what the front page of her website even looked like (and didn’t recognise it when it was shown to her), but spoken to another who checks hers so seldom that she had no idea which photographs were on it, and also been told of yet another who on the phone spoke what was apparently rather apathetic-sounding but nevertheless flawless Queen’s English á la World Service, yet in person boasted a broad and lovely Blackburn accent (and rather tellingly, had a decidedly patchy recollection of the telephone conversation which had taken place some four hours previously when questioned).

One of the things I value more than anything else about my business and the accompanying freedom in my personal circumstances is the opportunity to try out and learn so many new things – I know from speaking to many other ladies (who often, like me, had grown up being led to believe that they would never amount to anything much bar filling shelves or getting the washing done) that many have been amazed at the discovery of administrative, marketing, accounting and general organisational skills they never realised they had, despite often having run households, raised families and held down more two or more civvy jobs at once while doing so. These are officially, I’m told, called ‘transferable’ skills and are nowadays recognised as Worthy Strings To One’s Bow. Whoring as the new gateway to Alan Sugar-dom? You betcha. How bizarre then that so many miss the trick?

I do keep things fairly simple for myself in that I do not cultivate any kind of separate persona – I am (for better or worse) very much as-seen and the thought of having to live up (or in some cases, down) to some false, manufactured creation (particularly one manufactured by somebody else) would be a horrendous strain; I would certainly not be able to write this blog, for example, although incredibly that doesn’t stop some who just find somebody else to do that for them too. Unfortunately, they inevitably get found out, and what begins as abject laziness soon becomes a hell of a lot more work in maintaining the illusion – work I know I couldn’t be bothered with when it’s easier to just be yourself in the first place. So does this make me arrogant and overconfident, or just happy and comfortable in my own skin? Bit of both?

If this missive seems overly self indulgent or congratulatory, that is not my intention. How others conduct their business is entirely their own affair, although I will confess to being childishly irritated by the passing off of the work of others as one’s own rather than admitting to the fact of being too damn idle to put the effort in yourself. So somebody else has ‘helped’ – why not at least concede we all have strengths and weaknesses, and be honest? But it matters not. As I have found out this week, the truth will out eventually. And after some of the conversations I’ve had lately, I have never felt so glad to be truthful in the first place.

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