Well, the way the story goes, Ms. Miller come crying to me ‘bout this rush order she got from the Crown. Could make or break her business, she tells me. “I’ll kill meself if I lose this contract,” is how she puts it.
She was understaffed you see, that’s why she come to me. Spinning straw into gold – that’s me specialty, innit? It’s what people knows me for. And me, out of work after the Bear Corp layoffs, wasn’t I?
So I agree to help, just as an independent contractor—her words, not mine—because we’re in a hurry and there’s “no time for proper paperwork.” We smash through that first order faster than she can say “royal deadline,” and wouldn’t you know it, the Crown sends back another. Twice the size.
Now, Ms. Miller she says she hasn’t had time to start payroll from the last job, what with the second order arriving so quick and all but she swears she’ll get to it. And me, trustin’ soul that I am, I keep spinning expecting she’ll get that payroll sorted soon enough. But before I can brush the gold dust from the second order off my hands, in comes a third contract from the Crown – this one bigger than the first two combined.
Well, I tells Ms. Miller straight: “No more spinning till you settles up.”
When she hears that, Ms. Miller, she gets desperate.
“I’ll give you anything,” says she. “I’ll give you my first-born child.”
I says to her I don’t see how saddling me with no baby is gonna solve me money problems if you catch my meaning. Way I heard, those things go through gold near as fast as the Crown does. But I get her point, she’s needing me services urgent like. So’s I help her fill the third order, then I put me boot down. Now, no more work till you pays us, says I.
Except me pay cheque never comes. Three orders of gold spun and I ain’t seen a stick of straw for me troubles. Turns out Ms. Miller’s government contracts all dried up. Crown gone and found a foreign mill what spins gold cheaper than these local guild shops. And suddenly Ms. Miller can’t remember the name of the freelancer what bailed her out, can she? “We never completed the proper documentation” is what she tells me.
Sure, she sends me cheques alright. But I can’t cash them now can I on account o’ her not putting me correct name on them. Rimpelbellstein, Rumpystevesten, Rempelfeltskin, it’s all a bit offensive, innit? Lady needs a job done quick she beg nice enough but once it’s finished, she can’t recall your name, can she?
Of course I filed a complaint with the labour relations board. Took Ms. Miller before a judge, didn’t I? But that judge is right crooked as a goblin’s toe, ain’t he?
“Your honour, she can pay me in dollars, ducats or doubloons, she can even pay me in that cryptocoin if’n she has to, but I don’t spin gold on barter now do I?” I object. “This is a case of unpaid wages not a child custody hearing.”
How’s that for justice? What does that judge award me for me troubles? All I wanted was me back pay, instead he burdens me with the boss’s first-born brat!
