Frustration has always come easily to me. Lately, it’s been taking up residence at my desk. Here’s the situation. My predecessor designed a brochure that, in my humble opinion, is just sooooooo 10 years ago. One of my first tasks on the job was to finish making edits to the brochure and send it to print. Being the perfectionist that I am, I spent hours trying to “fix” it because I knew I had to, even though I considered it a monstrosity that should be completely scrapped and started fresh. Alas, I remorsefully added my small touches to the piece, resisting the temptation to do a full-scale redesign. I sent it to the printer and considered it done. Now, I can start fresh, I thought.
Silly me. I recently turned in a design for another project, a tri-fold brochure. I was fairly proud of it, thinking to myself, “See how much better this looks than that ugly old thing? See what a good designer I am?’’ Shortly after, it was returned to me, unmarked, with the request, “Make it look like the other brochure so we can carry out the ‘theme.’” (Read: Spread the ugly design across multiple other pieces I won’t be caught dead with in my portfolio, and thus, give me nothing in my first year on the job to showcase my creative abilities.)
Cue pouty face.
It’s not like I haven’t encountered situations like this in the past, but it’s just that it’s been a while. I wasn’t fully prepared for the resentment that would well up inside. And it’s not like the person asking me to do this is wrong, in fact, they’re completely right. It should match the theme, regardless of how hideous it may be. And furthermore, it’s not my decision, but it is my job to make it happen.
If only you could show your portfolio to future employers with footnotes.
- - “My boss made me add this, even I thought it looked terrible.”
- - “This piece would have been much better had I been given free creative reign.”
- - “I had to use this photo because of the space constraints but there were much better ones, trust me!”
- - “You should have seen my original draft.”
Sigh.
Sometimes I get so wrapped up with creating something “show-worthy” that I forget I’m not the boss. Someone else is. Isn’t that what being an employee is about? Someone else makes the decisions, you make them happen, and you get paid. Seems simple enough. Even in my freelance work, I may be in charge of my company, but the client is still the ultimate boss. If I can’t make them happy, I won’t get paid, nor will I get referrals. I don’t have a problem accepting this principle in freelance work, so why is it so much more of a struggle to suppress my start-a-revolution voice in my real job?
Recently I ordered some shoes online. They arrived in their tidy little shoe box inside, packed neatly inside another large shipping box. It makes me realize that being a creative professional for profit means you have to think differently than you would if you were an artist. As an artist, anything goes, but as a paid creative professional, that's usually not the case. Artists can think outside the box to limitless degrees, creating works of art that may one day be purchased by someone who appreciates the piece for its artistic value.
But as a creative professional, you must approach the situation a bit differently. Think outside THIS box, but inside THAT box. And that’s just how it works. If you really want to have full creative control, you should be an artist, but I hope you like pork and beans because so few are appreciated (financially) for their work. That's not to say you can't still create some really great work, but you just have to keep an open mind, knowing that changes inevitably will be made that you might not agree with.
So, my message to my inner artist: Suck it up and move on. You design to get paid … by someone else who has the final say. Welcome to the real world. Deal with it.
And that, my friends, is easier said than done. But I’m working on it.
