A few weeks ago, I attended a workshop at one of the prettiest places in the world. My generous client paid for my plane ticket, full board, and editorial work. All projects should be this good.
Because I’d worked with this client before, he trusted me, and didn’t hang around to babysit. As soon as he’d checked us in and had dinner with us, he went home to his wife, and left us mostly to ourselves except for occasional drop-ins to make sure all was okay.
The team consisted of two guys – one local, one English; and three girls – two locals plus me. I was the baby of the group, and everyone else had kids half my age. The bill had been agreed in advance, but we used sign-sheets to know what should be paid.
On day 1, the client was around, so he did all the signing himself. On later days, he left me in charge, so I was to look over the bills. Because he’d put me in control, he didn’t want to undermine me, so if the sign-sheets came and he was around, he instructed the hotel staff to defer to me, which I thought was pretty cool coming from an African man. It was almost cute the way the waiters would bring the chit to him and he’d nod in my direction instead. Continue reading