My lingering self-respect, along with a glance at the all-time low wages now being offered by the driving and delivery apps that once kept me afloat during the gaps in my freelance writing career, stopped me from revisiting those abusive relationships, but things were getting undeniably grim.
He spoke of well-paid, fun-sounding gigs he'd landed ghostwriting wedding speeches and wine mom group chat zingers. A glance at his profile page indicated that having worked a mere 85 hours, his lifetime earnings on the platform were already listed at "$10,000+." That plus symbol was downright decadent.
I wasn't going to be lulled into a false sense of security just yet. It only took a year before I heard the wolves at my door.
Sure, all gig work sucks, but at least this was a platform I could participate in from home. At least that's what I said to psych myself up.
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