‘Twas the night before Christmas, yet frantic at work
Freelancers like me, just going berserk
Wond’ring: would we finish the project on time?
“This is hopeless. Impossible,” I started to whine.
Frantically typing. There’s no time to slow.
So fast that a gasket might suddenly blow.
Coffee was brewing, the smell so divine.
Chocolate on standby. And might need some wine.
When messages stirred my phone started a’beeping
What? At this hour? I thought everyone’s sleeping
Swiped to unlock. What could be all the fuss?
Discord group invite… is this one for us?
The app I did open, to my great delight.
I wasn’t the only one freaking tonight.
But excitement was brewing, it was perfectly clear
That the end of our troubles, might finally be here
When into the chat a message did spring
It was cryptic as hell, but some bells it did ring
Who is it? I can’t tell. Its not very clear
But his avatar picture shows nine cute reindeer
“Now blogger, designer, all my freelancing friends.
To writers and trainers this is not how it ends.
Client ‘wows!’ are coming, as sure as can be.
Just wait a short minute and you will soon see.”
With doubt in my mind I asked with a bellow,
“Does anyone know who on earth is this fellow?
He chats up a storm, with delusions like these.
Has he not worked with clients? They are so hard to please!”
“Simmer down,” said my friend. He’s not one to beguile
The date on his profile states: “There for a while.”
That just won’t do. So I looked for more proof.
Surely freelancing folk need a sprinkling of truth?
With a click to his website and a poke all around,
And reading his pages, there was lots to be found.
5-stars. Raving feedback. There just was no lack.
This guy knew his stuff. And a fact is a fact.
Let’s start up a Zoom call. We really must learn,
All we can from this master. There’s no time to burn!
With freelancing frenzy we emailed our list.
The word blasted out: “This is not to be missed!”
Webcams were polished. All clothing now on.
This must be the best. We can’t get this wrong.
We waited and chatted. Caffeine downed by the cup.
‘Twas the hours before midnight, when he finally showed up.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old dude.
And I laughed when I saw him (didn’t mean to be rude).
We all crouched in silence, missing words was our fear.
But with knowing, wise eyes, stroked his snowy white hair.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Knocking socks off our clients, without being a jerk.
Pausing only for coffee, and to let his cat in,
Then giving a nod, smashed out work with a grin
“There! It’s all done. Can you see it now clear?
Confidence is my trick. There’s no more to share.”
With our courage now bolstered, souls full of delight.
He shouts parting words: “You can freelance just right!”
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Chris Milham