A bit blunt, but still functional

About 10 years ago, I worked at an animation studio in eastern downtown called Cine-Groupe. I started off doing clean-up for a Teletoon series called Bad Dog ; my job in the beginning involved inking rough sketches so that they could be photocopied for model packs.

One day when I returned to my drawing table after lunch, I found a post-it clinging to some drawings I'd been working on. In bold letters, standing out glaringly from the yellow sticky paper, was written: TOOL

I knew who had left the message. Marc was an incredibly talented artist designing characters for a Sony Wonder production I was also involved with; he was confident and outspoken, and this wasn't the first time he'd directed this word my way.

At the time, I raised a confused eyebrow; I admittedly jumped through hoops for my paycheque, working very hard to meet ridiculous deadlines with little praise from supervisors, but 'tool' felt like a deragotory slander. I crumpled the post-it, but mulled over its meaning.

Eventually, the studio downsized, and I was unceremoniously released until some new promised project could begin. That was the warning Marc tried to give me with those four letters stuck to my desk: a tool is often used until worn down, and casually tossed aside.

I'm grateful that Cine-Groupe hired me back in the day; I appreciate the folk I met, and am proud that I played a role in having some fine animation like Sagwa The Chinese Siamese Cat grace the small screen. I may have been a 'tool', but my work ethic is an integral part of my personality.

Nowadays, I work as a freelance artist, responsible to noone save myself. Looking back on it now, I'm glad Marc left that post-it; he was reminding me about self-respect, suggesting I not let myself to be taken advantage of, or hide my unique identity trying to please some boss.