Have you ever walked away from a job that you’ve worked on knowing that you couldn’t have worked any harder, but you still fell short?
Not too long ago, I finally had an opportunity to work for a dream client that I had wanted to work with for a very long time. I threw myself into it and I’m very content that I gave it my best with the time and resources that I had available.
But sadly, by the end of it I couldn’t meet their expectations, and that’s really hard to admit publicly.
For the first few days, I was really down, and I blamed myself more than anything. Perhaps I wasn’t fast enough, or I’ve lost my edge. Maybe it’s a sign that it’s time to hang up the headphones and put myself out to pasture. But as time moves on, I do appreciate that I gave it my all. I showed up early and stayed late. I just could not reach the limitations that were in place for the job, nor did the client, sadly, want to find a way to continue working together.
A situation like this usually makes me reflect. Being autistic, I’m quite a reflective thinker anyway, and having spent 12 years working on staff for a production company, and seven more as a freelancer, I think it’s long enough to have the judgement of how the industry has reinvented itself several times, usually to the point where the conclusion is that it expects more from less. I think, as I hit 40 in a couple of weeks, I’m entering my “I’m tired, boss” era. It’s not because I don’t enjoy working in television, but because I’m starting to question what it asks in return.
Many of us who work in this industry have been told, or instinctively feel, that we are very lucky to have a place in it. Many people are not privileged enough to spend their working lives being creative and working with other talented people.
But I think there comes a point where just being lucky is an excuse. It can’t be an excuse for impossible schedules, shrinking budgets, and expecting people to give more simply because they’re passionate about working in this industry.
If you work, or have started your career as a runner or assistant on a shoot, you probably have a schedule that looks like setting an alarm clock for 5am, moving kit out before 6, working flat out all day, lunch (if you’re fortunate), and then staying on later than you anticipated because that day will always overrun and always being the last one to finish. Rinse and repeat.
When you’re 21, you may have the energy and can wear it as a badge of honour, surviving on coffee and adrenaline, with the belief that it’s all worth it and it will pay off. I’ve held on to that mindset in my working life quite a lot.
But I think as you get older, reality says hi and starts asking questions. How do you balance your career with a family and look after your health? How can you justify giving every ounce of yourself to a job that is, frankly, becoming less secure every year?
The price of essentially everything has gone through the roof. Freelance work in this game just gets more unpredictable, with everyone having to tighten budgets, and tools like AI reshaping this industry. As I said before, the conclusion is to do more with less. The less is usually less people.
I don’t like to lay blame on companies and businesses working in TV, although of course there are some shady practices by many. I’m more of a hate the game than the player type of person.
Companies have their own clients they need to satisfy, with deadlines to hit and many commercial pressures of their own. The cycle, from my experience, seems to be that post production is squeezed by production, which is squeezed by budget, which is squeezed by advertising revenue, or whatever’s funding it. And don’t forget audience attention, which, in a roundabout way, I have blamed myself for the collapse of the TV industry.
And though it’s probably like this in any industry, the expectation becomes normalised. Work faster, do more, fix everything, don’t complain, be grateful, and repeat.
I feel that TV production has become very good at blurring the lines between resilience and sustainability. They are not the same thing though. Being able to survive a system doesn’t mean that the system really works.
Mental health is often more prominent than it used to be in this industry, and we can all be aware of it. But unfortunately, practising wellness for five minutes doesn’t magically create another three hours in the day or shift a deadline, does it? It doesn’t increase budgets.
Then let’s talk about representation. Until recently, I was a member of the UK’s TV and entertainment union, BECTU, for a number of years. But I cancelled my direct debit. I couldn’t see the point. I’m a member of another union in another industry, and I feel the difference is night and day compared to unionising in entertainment. I personally think it comes down to the fact that working conditions in TV only have a finite amount of room to be improved because it is a buyer’s market right now. There is a constant stream of talented people willing to work incredibly hard for less because who doesn’t want their chance to work in this game?
While many argue that TV is dying, people still want stories and fundamentally like to watch them on a screen in some way. But of course, the industry is undeniably changing, with companies closing, teams getting smaller, and freelancers competing for fewer opportunities while also demonstrating that they are indispensable, myself included.
Many people who I see exiting this industry are experienced and have spent years solving the complex issues that it brings. Many have done it because environmental factors have forced them, and some have also decided that they would like a life as well. Maybe they’ve proved they can do the impossible and have started to believe they shouldn’t have to, and have found fulfilling roles in other careers.
For many years, I assumed that success in TV meant sacrificing more than other people by working harder, staying later, always saying yes, and eventually you make it. But how long can “jam tomorrow” last?
The recent setback that I mentioned at the start of the article has really stung, but having a bit more time back in my life has started to give me perspective. Along with my other work, it has made me realise that having one foot outside of this industry is something I don’t feel guilty about. I still love the craft and working on exciting projects and bringing my skills to create a better product. I’ll always have that job satisfaction. But I’m really starting to wonder, am I sacrificing too much to stay in the game?
Probably a combination of age and what little wisdom I have, but I have to ask myself, if giving absolutely everything still isn’t enough, is the problem just me, or the system I operate in? It’s a difficult thing I’ve been asking myself, but liberating at the same time.
Over the last month, I’ve been experimenting with paid articles. It’s been a useful test, and it’s helped me clarify where I think Substack fits into my wider work.
For now, I’m going back to making all of my articles free. I want as many people as possible to read, share and benefit from them.
Paid subscriptions will remain as a way to support my work, so I can dedicate more time to honing this publication. So if you can spare a few bucks I’m very greatful!
I’m also developing other educational resources that I look forward to sharing in the future.
Thanks to everyone who’s been reading along. I’m looking forward to what’s next…
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