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| I didn't know what to illustrate this post with, so here's a photograph of me looking young, windswept and interesting in 1976 0r '77. What a handsome chap, even if I say so myself |
Sometimes I'm too soft for my own good. Allow me to elucidate. There's a small-time, part-time comics 'outfit' who produce the odd publication every few years, for whom I once did some lettering. I did it for half my usual rate, on the understanding that if any future issues were to be produced, I'd get to letter them at something closer to a more realistic amount. A few years went by, and I happened to meet the self-styled 'publisher' (it's not his real job - he's got a nine to five one doing something else), who mentioned that he was going to produce another issue featuring the same character.
"And will I be lettering it?" I enquired of him, mindful of his previous promise to me. "Er - well, I'd like that," he said, hesitating, "but because you do hand-lettering and everything's done on computer these days, there'd be a few practical problems to sort out. If we can work our way around them, I don't see why not. Leave it with me - I'll do my best." I was left with the strong impression that he was going to go all-out to facilitate my participation on the project.
On a couple of subsequent occasions when I ran into him (in an art studio in Glasgow), it was pretty much a repeat of the same. A few minutes after our last chat, I walked into another room in the studio to find him and another fellow hunched over a computer, lettering the strip with a computer font. The same fellow to whom I had given my lettering samples (for nothing) on a previous occasion so that he could letter his own artwork. I don't think he ever got around to transferring the fonts to computer. If he did, at least he had the 'decency' not to use them on the job which I'd been led to expect I'd be doing.
"I thought you said I'd be lettering these pages once you'd worked out the practical problems?" I put to him. "Well, that's not quite what I said" he lied, in finest weaselly fashion. Obviously, he'd only been stringing me along and had no intention of involving me, but was just too spineless to say so up-front. Even allowing for a genuine misunderstanding of our recent exchanges however, he was clearly in breach of the promise he had previously made to me when I did my first lettering job for him.
Which just goes to show that some people are full of p*sh and will say whatever is expedient to get what they want at the time. Never mind - what goes around comes around, so they say.
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I found a review of the publication I lettered for this outfit which originally appeared on a website and thought you might be interested in this relevant extract: "The whole thing (is) capped by a bravura hand-lettering performance by Kid Robson who, in these heady days of Blambot Fonts, PCs and iMacs shows us what can still be done by a talented human." So, no question I did a good job then - and for a vastly reduced rate. I can only assume that the short, bald 'publisher' resents me for being tall, with a full, luxuriant head of hair. It won't be for my obvious integrity - that's clearly not something to which he aspires.
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| The end of the world, from a signboard outside The Salon Cinema on the corner of Highland Rd and Festing Rd, Southsea, in 1981. The cinema closed in '83 and was demolished in '85 |
However, it's not only people playing at being publishers who let you down: those with less exalted pretensions are also prone to taking advantage of folks of a helpful disposition such as myself. Case in point: Someone I knew had started up a business somewhere in Glasgow. It was a Fish & Chip shop with an adjoining cafe, and business had been slow. Would I go in and bestow the benefit of my professional calligraphic skills upon their fitted menu boards and thereby improve the look of the place? They couldn't afford to pay me much, but....
"Say no more" I ejaculated (behave), "I'll help all I can - and won't charge you a penny!" I had a job at the time which was three days on and three off, so at the first available opportunity, I was driven into Glasgow and set about my task. I was busy until early evening, at which time I was asked "So - how much do we owe you...?" "Nothing," I said, "I told you it wouldn't cost." "Would you like something to eat then?" enquired the grateful hubby. "Well, I wouldn't say no to a fish supper" I replied, salivating at the prospect. And what a huge fish it was - with loads of chips and a can of Coke to wash it down.
However, the chap's wife wanted a few more signs up around the place, so I consented to return the following day. Again, it took a good few hours, and when I finished I was once more asked if I wanted a fish supper. "Lovely, thanks very much" I said, dribbling at the mouth. However, just then the hubby's attention was required elsewhere for a few moments, so he asked his wife to attend to my seafood sustenance. As she was instructing the assistant behind the counter, I heard her mutter "Just give him a small fish." The supper I was handed was a poor second compared to the generous helping I'd been given the night before - with fewer chips, to boot.
But there's more! A sign needed a finishing touch, so I agreed to return the next day. The wife said she'd pick me up at a certain time in the morning, to which I assented, but said that if she wasn't there for that time and I didn't hear from her to say why, I'd assume she wasn't coming and go out for the day. I made that very clear because it was the last of my three days off and I didn't want to be sitting around the house waiting for someone who wasn't going to arrive.
The next day dawned with no sign of her at the appointed hour. No 'phone call was forthcoming, so as I was all washed and dressed I decided to go out and hit the shops and perhaps treat myself to a fry-up breakfast. Later that day when I returned home, there was a message on my answering-machine apologising for the 'no-show' and saying that she would be along for me shortly. This had been left a good hour (perhaps more) after the agreed time, and as I'd been out when it was left I never heard it - nor was I in if or when she'd come chapping.
There was no point returning the call as it was now far too late in the day to do anything. Besides, she'd probably 'phone back and arrange another time. As I was the one obliging them on my days off for nothing more than an ever-diminishing meal, I wasn't about to put myself out any further - it was really up to them to contact me. (And I was irked by her meanness the day before.) Never heard from either of them again, which goes to show how truly appreciative they were of my generous nature. It was as if they thought they were doing me a favour.
One thing I've learned in this life is that the more you do for for nothing (or next-to-nothing), the less people respect you for it. So charge the full price whenever you can. Then you'll have your self-respect - and some cash in your pocket into the bargain.
