Notes from a Hired Pen: The “Where’s My Money?” Bat

Readers!

That is me, in high school, in the apex of my softball career. I was captain of my squad then and asked to try out as a walk on at my D-II college, but declined. I'd hurt my shoulder. Florida's hot. I wanted to focus on important college things (like school and boys).

One thing I kept, other than the shoulder injury, was my bat. And while it's gotten some workouts at batting cages and intramural teams in the 20 years since I graduated college, it's main job now is figurative. I call it my "Where's My Money?" bat.

When I was a new freelancer, I hated asking for money. It's not that I enjoy it now, but back then, I felt like I was the bad guy, as if I was doing something wrong for asking if I could possibly get an update on money that had been owed to me 30, 60, even 90 days before. One outlet told me that if I wanted to get paid, I had to travel to their Manhattan office to physically pick up my check.

Of course none of this is acceptable. I needed something to help me get over the idea that I was wrong to ask for payment. My softball bat became my "Where's My Money?" bat. I'm Italian American and yes, I hate a lot of those stereotypes, but with this one thing, I leaned into it.

When it was time to follow up on payments, I'd stick it in the corner of my office. If I ever felt like I was doing the wrong thing in asking for my money, I'd look the bat. Then I'd send emails, and carry on.

Here's the bat. I don't really mean swinging it at people. The only reason I would do that is in self defense.

Over time, collections got easier because I started thinking like the entrepreneur that I am. I did my job, and now they owed me. Would a plumber, electrician or landscaper feel bad about asking for late payment? No! Would my mortgage company? Of course not — and they'd fine me, and possibly throw me out of my house if I didn't pay my bills on time.

I also don't give publications as much slack as I used to. If they are chronic late payers, or keep giving me bizarre excuses as to why they couldn't pay me on time, I stop working for them. The time you spend trying to get paid is time you could have dedicated to something else. It also drops the per hour rate for that work because, yes, time dedicated to collections counts in that equation too. This is why I may write for some clients who pay lower than my normal per word. If they come to me with ideas (so I don't have to pitch) and pay within 15 days (every single time), they become a higher value client than someone who pays $1.50/word but takes a few (metaphorical) swings of the bat to get me paid anywhere close to on time.

I don't use the bat as a visual aid for collecting money anymore. But when I do have to go after someone — as I did recently — I tell myself to get "get the bat." I had to "swing" it hard this month to dislodge a very late $2,000 payment. Happy holidays indeed.

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