One rainy Saturday morning not too long ago, I settled down in front of my laptop with a cup of freshly dripped coffee and started translating subtitles for a 1.5-hour rom com classic, a project I accepted knowing I’m trading an entire—and much-needed—weekend for $80 in my account.
This revelation will surprise my freelancer friends. I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve condemned, to said friends, working for pennies and urged them to charge what they’re worth, not what their ever-stingy clients will offer.
Back when I gave private “Val’s Bespoke English” lessons, a single online session with me would set you back $83. Which is outrageous. But $83 was what 50 minutes of my time, plus preparation and follow-up, was worth to me, and students who knew my worth were happy to pay.
Yet here I was, spending 11 solid hours of my weekend translating 1,500 lines of dialogue from English to Thai for less than what I priced a 50-minute lesson at… and feeling like the luckiest person on earth.
I don’t work for money
There’s a reason I happily turn over weekends to subtitles translation but no longer teach English privately: I realised I was teaching for money.
I charged an exorbitant $83 per lesson because I derived no benefits beyond the monetary. I was not learning or growing. Dealing with delinquent students frustrated me. The act of teaching did not spark joy.
So I stopped.
It didn’t matter that teaching was easy money. My time on this earth is so limited, I deem it an incredible waste to spend it on something I wouldn’t do for free.
Subtitles translation is thankless, time-consuming, eye-busting work that does not pay. Most of the time you don’t even get the credit. You toil for hours and hours, and at the end of the day the viewer doesn’t even know who to thank for the excellent subtitles they’ve just enjoyed.
But I’d do it for free any day. Because I consider it an immense privilege. When I got into the industry a decade ago, I couldn’t believe how lucky I was to get to shape the experience of hundreds of thousands—possibly millions—of Thais watching movies and series with my subtitles.
What I really get in return for 11 hours of my weekend is not the measly $80, but the pride and joy of knowing every single one of those viewers will enjoy this classic in exactly the way its creators intended, all thanks to me.
More than that, each new project is an opportunity for me to level up my translation skills. When I was offered the rom com, I knew I’d be a better translator for having worked on it, so I jumped at the opportunity. What I’d get paid never even grazed my mind.
There’s nothing I do now that I do for money. I don’t translate subtitles for money. I don’t write this newsletter for money. I don’t create Instagram content for money. I don’t spend time with my partner, friends, and family for money. I don’t even work my day job for money.
So… what the hell do I do it all for?
What I work for
Impact.
It took quitting two well-paying jobs in close succession and my partner’s timely intervention—honey, here’s what I’ve observed about you—for me to learn that impact is the only thing that matters.
No matter how well-paid a position is, how understanding my boss, how amazing my colleagues, how great the opportunity for learning and advancement—impact is the only thing that keeps me.
Every time I’ve left a job, it’s because I could no longer see my impact on the customer, the team, the company. I’d get super excited about a role, then less than two years in my mind would set about inventing a million reasons why it wasn’t right anymore: the pay was low, the team wasn’t good, the culture was toxic—all to mask the fact that I’d, quite simply, lost interest.
Impact is why I still translate subtitles for pennies after a decade, why four years in I still feel blessed for the opportunity to work my day job every time I sit down for a five-hour sprint, why I quit teaching when I could no longer tell if my students were improving.
As long as I see my impact, I’m happy to give my all.
My all, however, comes at a price. Everything I do, I’d do for free. But I still expect to be paid.
Before you cry “hypocrite!” and vigorously unsubscribe, hear my two very good reasons:
First, we don’t live in a world where money doesn’t matter. Everyone has to eat, buy clothes, pay rent. None of us can afford to work for free. Nor should we. Which brings me to…
Second, money is a lousy motivator—it breeds comparison, resentment, greed—but it’s still the truest indicator of our value at work. Which is why, whenever I feel I’ve exceeded expectations, I’ve always asked for a raise.
Not because I’m unhappy with my salary, or because I want more, more, more. But because the money my boss is willing to pay me is the loudest affirmation of whether I’m doing a good job and having real impact.
Which is what truly matters, at the end of my day.
What do you think?
If you’re still with me:
What do you work for?
Is it money? Respect? The opportunity to make a difference? In an ideal world, what would you like to work for? Can you make this utopia your reality? Please hit “reply” or leave a comment—I read every response and I’d love to hear from you. If you want, share this post with a friend who works for the sheer fun of it all.
Until next Friday… Stay thoughtful,
Val
Photo by Giorgio Trovato on Unsplash