Don’t do it for the money
At least twice in my career I got offered lots of money to do something I didn’t believe in. I refused both times. And I have never regretted it.
Just starting out
In 1983 I was making $25,000 as a technical writer. I had started working for a software company part-time, then they plucked me out of graduate school for mathematics at MIT and hired me at that salary. And I was very much enjoying my work.
In the course of my employment I was connected with an expert in finance. He asked to interview me, which I did on a weekend, outside of my regular work. He’d identified my mathematical skill and wanted me to consider working full-time doing stock option valuation for his little company of two or three people.
In an attempt to persuade me, he said, “What salary would you want?” I imagined the highest number I could say out loud without choking. “$45,000” I replied. “Done,” he said.
For reference, in 2024 dollars, that’s the equivalent of a raise in salary from $85,000 to $125,000.
There was only one problem.
The idea of spending my day evaluating the value of stock options seemed completely dreary and boring. Even if it could lead to a lucrative career the field of finance.
So I told the guy I wasn’t really interested enough to switch careers and thanked him for his time.
That money could have put me on a completely different career path. But I’m glad I didn’t take the money.
The poisoned freelance offer
An agency I often work with brought me an intriguing offer last year. A CEO was writing a memoir/advice book and had already worked with other ghostwriters to create 90% of a manuscript. They just needed somebody skilled to get it over the finish line — in a hurry.
I had the time free and could likely finish the job in a month. And the client was willing to pay top dollar. I would clear $36,000 for a month’s work, about half-time. That’s a pretty rich payday.
We set up a test project to edit one chapter for a reasonable pay rate. I got a look at the content. And I felt a little queasy.
It was a book embracing bare-knuckle capitalism as a force for good. It recommended working hard every waking hour and loving it. Another warning sign: there were three versions of the chapter to rationalize with edits from different people in the CEO’s organization, including his own edits as dictated and written down by another staffer.
And a little research that I should have done before considering the job showed me that while the client was a CEO, a better description would have been as a private equity operator — who takes over companies, does whatever is necessary to make them profitable including laying off staff, and then sells them at a big profit.
I really could have used that $36,000. But I just couldn’t grit my teeth and work on this book — I didn’t believe in what it was saying. So I withdrew from the project. I really regretted putting the agency in a difficult position and worried about what this would do for my reputation there, but the compensation didn’t match up to the psychic cost to me.
I have no idea what happened to the project after that.
Regrets
I’ve had a few, but then again, too few to mention.
Each of those choices could have made me a nice wad of cash. And I could see myself, on the other side of those decisions, wondering what kind of person I was and what I really believed in.
Luckily for me, I had the financial security in each case to continue on without much pain. I know there are people who would be forced to make decisions such as these because they were in dire financial need.
But I know people who’ve taken the money and regretted it. And I was determined not to be one of those people.
I’m sure finance is the right career for lots of people, but despite my mathematical and writing skills, it’s not for me.
So, did you ever have a big payday dangled in front of you? Did you take it or turn it down? And did you regret it, or did things turn out okay?
A long-term client of mine offered me the translation of a series of essays written several decades by the (now very elderly) head of the national committee for a world-wide event that takes place every four years. It was filled with what today would be considered extremely racist and misogynist views. I was horrified at the contents of the first chapter and things went even further downhill in subsequent chapters. After several sleepless nights torn between my need to support my family and my ethics, I withdrew from the project. The committee organization threatened to sue my client who, fortunately, found someone else for the project and so escaped that fate. Not only did I lose the money associated with the translation (about two months’ earnings), but also any publicity associated with me as the translator (which may have led to further projects) and that client never contacted me again. I do understand her position; I definitely should have read the text before committing to translating it. I lost money, a valued long-term client, and possible future earnings. I don’t care. My ethics are my foundation.
From another angle, I once applied for a job, a 6-month contract position, with a land-use planning firm. I had several years of experience, and the posted job offer showed a salary range. In the interview, when talk came around to compensation, I asked for a figure at the high end of the posted range. The interviewer dismissed that by stating that I would start at the bottom end (despite my experience) with a promise to increase it after a 6-month review. That told me all I needed to know about the interviewer and his ethics (or lack thereof), and the meeting ended when I pointed out that this was a 6-month contract.