Due due

This is going to be a bitch and moan post. It'll be a big cup of whine, with a "do you hear the violins?" chaser.

You can't say you haven't been warned. So here we go.

Sure the freelance life looks pretty glamorous from the outside, but it's actually all knuckles and know-how.

Especially when it comes to getting paid.

Regardless of what you think from reading this blog - and don't lie to me - I'm actually pretty good at this writing thing.

I'm especially good at writing invoices. I do the work, then BAM! I Quick Draw McGraw an invoice faster than you can say "payable in 60 days."

Usually when I work for an agency as a temporary employee, as I do at most places (let's have a moment of silence for the endangered 1099), I'm on their employee pay schedule, which is usually twice a month. Occasionally, once a week. By the way, nothing but love for those shops.

But on the rare occasion when I'm 1099'd, I find the payment schedule is somewhat, what's the word, erratic.

The longest I ever had to wait to get paid was four and a half months. I won't name names - Disney - but it was an absurd amount of time to get what I imagine is less money than Bob Iger spends on valet parking in a week.

Still, it's nice to know occasionally even a global company like Disney needs my help to float them. Happy to oblige.

Here's the thing: I like the companies I work for. All I'm saying is I'd like them a lot more if they showed their appreciation by saying it with cash and paying on time.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go make a phone call. Right after I check the mailbox.

86 the 1099

It's the very definition of buzzkill. You work a certain number of days for an agreed rate, and you expect to see that amount on the check. Then payday rolls around, and you're as giggly as a 13-year old on her way to a One Direction concert. But when you open the envelope, thanks to Uncle Sam, the check is about a third lighter than you expected.

That giant sucking sound? It's all the things you were going to do with the money disappearing.

Here's how it used to work.

You'd go into an agency, do the work, then send them an invoice. Maybe they'd ask you to sign a NDA. Maybe. Then, you'd get a check for what you invoiced. Every cent. The rate you'd agreed on. The amount you expected.

It was called 1099 income. And it was a beautiful thing. But that was then and this is now.

Apparently those boys at the IRS have no sense of humor when it comes to not getting their payroll taxes from the working masses. Which is what was happening with freelancers in agencies.

So now, agencies are only allowed to hire someone freelance for a very short period of time before they're required by law to put them on staff as a temporary employee. But most of them go straight to temp employee status.

The way it works now is you go into an agency, fill out a stack of employee forms as thick as the Yellow Pages, that range anywhere from the Confidentiality Agreement to the Sexual Harassment Policy (SPOILER ALERT: Don't do it). You also sign a W-4 form which, unlike the 1099, means taxes are taken out for you and you get a W-2 form at the end of the year with the breakdown.

It also means you don't get the freelancer's second best friend next to free food: deductions.

In a nutshell, W-2 money is good and bad. Good because you don't have to remember to pay those pesky quarterly taxes like you do on the gross 1099 income, and the agency pays half the employee tax. Bad because you don't get all the samolians.

I've always been good with money - go figure. So I prefer 1099 income. I'd rather juggle my money accordingly and pay my own taxes. I also have this little pet peeve about the government reaching into my pocket, or paycheck, and taking money out.

Among all the papers you sign for W-2 income is an agreement that even though you're considered a temporary employee, you're not entitled to any benefits.

Including getting the full amount you're owed on your check.