Wednesday, August 29, 2012

Dating an Architect

A, sadly accurate, summary of the trials and tribulations of dating an Architect. It's probably why I am single. Thanks to www.howaboutwe.com for the list below:




“Architects make a lot of money.”


This is not true. (But people assume it is.)



Architects are used to late nights.


In theory, it shouldn’t be a problem to stay up all night for sexytime. But in reality, they probably pulled an all-nighter last night and are ready to crash at 8 tonight.



There is no such thing as a fat architect.


For some reason. I have no idea.



Things you never even knew existed are now the most important. thing. ever.


“That is the ugliest fucking radiator ever”, “How did they not align the light switch with the outlet?” “What’s your favorite kind of hinge?” “What’s your favorite CAD command?”



They’re probably anal.


They probably have one of three “systems” for organizing their bookshelves: by color, by size (largest to smallest), by publisher. None of these make any sense and ironically provide the very opposite of “order”, but it doesn’t matter, because it looks better. In fact, they will have a “system” for everything, including organizing the fridge and how to put their clothes away. You might think it’s cute at first, an endearing quirk – until you realize how much of their precious little free time is consumed by obsessing over things that a) no one cares about and b) does not enhance their lives in any way.



After a while, you will only hang out with architects.


This happens. Hope you don’t just love your architect, but that you love ALL architects.



Architects handle relationship/life stress well.


Because anything is less stressful than a deadline.



You won’t get studio.


Prepare yourself for constant references to this mysterious place called “studio” that they spent every waking moment of their college lives in, and never being let on on the inside jokes, with explanations like “you had to be there” or “it was a lot funnier at four in the morning.”



They will be coffee snobs.


If it’s not organically grown, economically sustainable and socially consciously harvested, and brewed in a vintage French Press OR a Chemex, chances are, they might politely decline your coffee. Until, four minutes later, they realize they’re caffeine deprived and, ethics be damned, this presentation needs to get to Dubai by 1AM…


Architects are passionate, dedicated people.


They didn’t get through 5 years of architectural school by being lazy, indifferent and stupid. (Need a first date conversation starter? Ask them about how many people dropped out of their program freshman year – they’ll be all too proud to tell you that “they were one of the few” who made it out unscathed.”) They know just enough about every culturally relevant artist, philosopher, composer etc to make them seem exceptionally worldly and cultured – your parents should love them. Keep in mind that it’s all a facade (no pun intended!) and that if you were to press them on any one of those topics, they’ll find a way to skillfully manipulate the conversation into some abstract “concept” and avoid being called out on not knowing shit.

 

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Monday, April 05, 2010

Paid what you're worth...(cont.)

I promised I'd follow up on my previous post. So I'll begin with a story.

Since completing the renovation projects that brought me home, I've been hunting for work. Any work. Cause, well, I gotta pay some bills. I've been up for anything. I've done some writing and editing, some graphic design, a competition, and even some consulting. Small things to get me by while I received letter after letter telling me what I already knew - no one is hiring.

So, you can imagine my excitement after getting a referral from my parents. A restaurant: it was small enough that I could do the work by myself, and seemed like a pretty clean slate, design-wise. Sure, it'd be a tight budget, but these projects always are. Besides, aren't these also the projects that launch people's careers. Small, quirky...get it out there, get some press, and I could be well on my way.

I should have seen it coming, from the second they thanked me for agreeing to do the project. Why? Well, because, this was the first thing they said to me, despite me having never met them, nor actually agreeing to do anything besides meet with them. Let's just say, somewhere along the line, there was a miscommunication. I'd learn quickly what that was.

In their initial conversation with my parents, they had discussed their dire budget. They hoped they might find a designer that might help them in light of their financial situation. You know what that means? They wanted someone who might do their work for free. Or at least, do it all up front with promise of payment at some later date. They got the impression from my parents that I'd be amenable to that.

That initial meeting was extremely awkward. They approached it as though I had fully committed to designing their project. Not knowing anything, I got drawn into the discussion, noticing that any discussion of fee was being carefully, but consciously, avoided. Only when I mentioned the need for consultants, especially for the mechanical, electrical and plumbing, did they go on about their need to "save", and perhaps I'd know people who'd understand their position and be able to help them like I was.

I left torn. The designer in me wanted to dive in - say, what the hell. I've got nothing better to do. The business man in me, the one thinking about my upcoming bills, wanted to go home, write a service proposal, and send it back to them immediately.

I spoke with some mentors, some colleagues, to get ideas. You see, my professional practice course drilled into me one mantra - never work for free. And, in principle, I agree. Doing work for free, as an intern, or as a professional, is a disservice to you and the profession. It devalues the work that we do, leaving people the impression that what we do doesn't really have any worth.

Working for a free as an intern bothers me because the firm utilizing your efforts rarely, if ever, passes those savings on to their clients. Your free labor is used to help that firm stay afloat, because they undercharged to get the job or are trying for a high profile gig, in which they through everything they have at it, even if it means exceeding the hours budgeted. Either way, it perpetuates the undervalued perception of the work we do.

Working for free as a professional - well, it becomes a more personal dilemma. After all, you as the professional, are responsible for saying yes or no. As one of my mentors reminded me, sometimes, you take on a job, pro-bono, in the hopes of achieving another outcome - publicity, portfolio building, experience in a new field. And for many of us trying to break out on our own, without the connections or backing that allows for paid commissions, doing free work might be an avenue towards recognition.

And, to be honest, there are times when I can see free design services are justified - doing work for non-profits, which use your expertise to achieve something that benefits the underserved, or a community in need. By all means, take some time to help out. But, in my particular case, I felt unmoved, despite my excitement for the project itself.

I went back and forth for a couple of weeks. I did end up doing some work for them - options for their logo, as well as four floor plan options on organizing the space. But I stopped there. And then I wrote a service contract for the services I provided, as well as a service proposal for the work they would need from me take the project forward.

At the second meeting, I showed them the work I had done. They were excited, they asked questions, they wanted to know more. And I gave them options - ideas how to move forward, the things they needed to complete before they could continue, how to finalize their budget. And then I gave them my service contract and my service proposal. They stopped being excited. They stopped asking questions. I explained to them that, if money was that tight, there were a number of things they could do themselves. The consultants they would need to find, the drawings they would need to get, the concrete items they would need to price so they could determine how much they might actually have for their interior fit out. The client only focused on "this is how much I owe you?" I told her that the rates were negotiable, and to review them and get back to me. It's been two weeks. Do you think they've called?

In the end, my gut tells me I was right to do what I did. If it had been a close friend, or family, I might have been more open to doing work upfront, without worrying about the compensation. But, if close friends or family had asked me, they'd have also been willing, hell, they'd have been adamant, to discuss the nature of my compensation, whatever that might have been. I would have done the work because, ultimately, I'd trust them to carryout their promises to me. I didn't have that feeling in this case, and so far, I've been proven correct.

Everyone has to figure out what works for them, what they ultimately decide is right for them. So I'm not going to judge, or definitely say you should or should not do work for free. I admit, I wanted that project. And for a moment, I seriously considered moving forward. I had a number of ideas floating in my head from the second I met with them. In the end, I ended up doing some work for free, as I doubt I'll ever get money for what I completed. But, though they might have a floorplan, they didn't get anything else. Those ideas, for everything from their material palette to the design of feature elements, is still locked in my head. And, even if these ideas don't get built, they are ideas that I imagined and these clients could not. So I'll save them for another time, when I think they'll be given a value equal to their worth.

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Monday, February 22, 2010

Missed Connections

My experiences have so far taught me this: finding a job is a bit about your own qualifications, a bit more about luck and even more, timing. Of the three, I have only the qualifications on my side.

Like so many others, timing is against me. One day, news is positive that things will get better. The next, news is that things aren't quite what people hoped. The most optimistic news from the AIA: firms will begin hiring in earnest come mid-year. This means, if they are right, I’ve got another couple of months of resume sending ahead of me.

In the past couple of months, I've had a couple of "what if" moments...glimpsed opportunities that seemed so close to becoming real, only to evaporate like the mirages they were. The rise and fall of hope is a rollercoaster that I am not sure I want to be on. But, with no other choice, I have to ride on, figuring as long as I don't puke, I'll survive until the end.

You know the most striking thing about those mirages? They would take me to completely different places – places unrelated and previously unimagined. In fact, some might call them crazy, and I certainly, in my past, never considered them. But there they sat, like gleaming nuggets, taunting me with futures that I suddenly, very desperately, wanted to come true. In troubled times, you open yourself up to many possibilities. In my case, it's an ever-broadening and foreign landscape.

When I was younger, I believed in two things: soulmates and career paths. I like each concept because each presents a rather logical, cause-effect progression to a future. You were meant for one thing or one person. Find it, and everything else falls in place. Life falls in place.

If you’ve been a reader of this blog, you’ll notice one thing – my life has not been quite what I’ve planned. And I think, right now, it will be hard to find anything that makes me feel settled. And I’ve definitely gotten over the soulmates and career paths thing.

But, as they say, if one door closes, a window opens. So, while I try and climb to that window, I’ll now contemplate a contingency for the very real possibility that, when I get to that window, it will be shut. Not an overwhelmingly optimistic point of view, but neither it is it completely cynical. Because, when I get to that window, I might glimpse a view out that window to a world I didn’t even consider. And perhaps my contingency will provide me with a way to get there.

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