The Illusion of Stability
I know it’s been a few weeks since this happened, but the sudden shutdown of CollegeHumor still has me kind of reeling. I’ve been watching their stuff since literal college, stayed with the changing cast and staff through the various incarnations, basically considered it a constant I could go to when I needed a laugh or to unwind for a bit. Even with the brand being sold to Sam Reich, the dude who was driving it creatively for years and clearly cares deeply about the cast, battling back will be a very difficult journey.
Sidenote: If you want to try and save CollegeHumor while there’s still time, join their Dropout service, as that’s funding all future projects for now.
You’d think I’d have learned this lesson already when Cracked died (the heart was cut out, what’s left is rotting remains), but it’s easy to think of these institutions as rock-solid because we see them on our screens. Historically, things weren’t very easy to get on screens. It took a lot of effort, money, and, most of all, time. Forming or joining a studio, building a cast, sets, gathering an audience, I could go on for pages. There’s so much pipleline in creating traditional movies and television, that even if it cuts off at the source, we’ll still have up to a full season of content already queued up. There’s a gradual let-down, and usually, some sort of warning that the end is nigh. I’m sure most of us check ratings for shows we love that are on the bubble, hoping to see enough numbers to justify more seasons but mentally bracing ourselves when the outlook is poor.
In these cases, there is no warning, no buildup, and as bad as it is for us, I can’t even begin to fathom what it would be like to work like hell, clear all the various hoops, and finally land a job at a place like CollegeHumor, only to have the entire company fall out from beneath my feet. It’s terrifying, all the more so because the situation isn’t limited to only comedy companies working on the internet.
When I was first making the jump to writing full-time, one of the things that scared me the most was losing my stability. No more bi-weekly paychecks, no more systems to keep me accountable, no more larger company making smart moves to keep everything fiscally solvent. It was a fear that clung to me for years, even after taking the plunge, wondering if I was being too reckless.
In the six years since that happened, I have seen several friends lose their jobs through no fault of their own, cut do to choices the company made miles above their head. Between that, and seeing such public examples as CollegeHumor tear down what appeared to be a creative paradise, I’ve slowly been clueing in to one seemingly inescapable truth.
I never had any stability to give up in the first place. All I ever had was the illusion of stability.
Maybe there was a time this wasn’t the case. Based on things like “pensions” and ideas like “company loyalty” it sure seems like there was some point where worker and company could be expected to have each other’s backs, but if such a golden time even existed, we’re well-past it. Between acquisitions, mergers, and the enormous landscape of modern corporations, there’s no such thing as a stable position. Even if you join a company with absolute pure intentions, who treat their employees well and offer outstanding benefits, unless they’re an absolute dominator in their field, you still have to worry about them being bought up by someone bigger and stripped for assets.
My point here isn’t that you should be constantly afraid for your job, by this point, I think we’ve all seen enough to realize that for ourselves. Rather, what I’m getting at is more specifically for the creatives out there who are held back from taking the plunge only by their desire for stability. Going fulltime on writing is a huge commitment and gamble, please don’t read this and think anything different. You need to have your ducks in a row and feel very certain before you take that step into the unknown, this is absolutely not me advocating you jump the gun.
However, there is a space between being able to go fulltime, and finding the gumption to make the plunge. For some courageous souls, I imagine it’s the span of seconds. The rest of us usually need a bit of time and thought to make such a move. Should you be in that between-space, the point where all that’s holding you back is you, regardless of what career/job/change you’re looking at making, it can be so tempting to look at what’s familiar and conflate it with being safe. But it isn’t. It isn’t safe or stable, it only feels that way. For some folks, that feeling is important, occasionally enough to keep them where they are, and if that’s what makes you happy then more power to you. You can certainly choose the comfort of an illusion, so long as you’re aware of the decision you’re making.
Ultimately, there is something to be said for steering your own ship. Yes, its’ daunting, and scary, and I face every year knowing it might be the last I keep all this working. But for all that terror, I at least have some say in what happens. When the market changes, I get to choose what to aim for next. For all that it lacks in stability, going off on your own compensates with freedom, and not a mere illusion of it either. Win or lose, sink or swim, you’re the only one who can determine what comes next. Whether that sounds like a dream or a living hell should probably be a good indicator of how much you’d enjoy working in a world like that.
To me, that trade-off would be worth it, even if I was giving up actual stability. Given the poor facsimile that offices manage to offer these days, it’s not even close.