My career is going great. My soul-revealing narrative profile about two rival football coaches falling in love in the fertile cornfields of Nebraska has just been bought by one of my top 85 favorite editors. Cha-ching! I just need to email an invoice.

In my line of work, you see, it’s common to email invoices to large publishing houses full of people you’ve never met, especially accountants. These people wall themselves in cubicles, under jaundice-mimicking fluorescents, and ready themselves to play prevent-defense against your livelihood. Highly regimented A-types, they are, publishing annual invoice schedules derived from external accounting pressures, sadism and the Bobolinks’ bifurcated migratory pattern. Don’t be late, or you risk not scoring that sweet $25-$60 paycheck or the occasional 18¢ in royalties. Fail to include the prior authorization number or the editor’s acceptance code, and you go on a list.

For years now, every two weeks, always on Thursdays, inclusive of holidays should the invoice period (not the invoice date, get it right for fuck’s sake) fall 24 hours in advance of, or 48 hours after the close of, the bi-weekly publishing schedule as outlined in Exhibit C of your Freelance Contract, hereinafter FC, I’m to submit an invoice, with proper identifiers, as outlined in Section 12, subcategory Q of aforementioned contract, to be eligible to receive payment ranging from 14-28 days in arrears of editorial acceptance, except in special conditions as outlined in Addendum 6, or if I’ve ever moved French Rococo furniture into a mid-century California apartment, or in the case of special publications that fall outside of the standard publication schedule, inclusive of salmon runs, exclusive of leap years.

For my ease, I am to use their invoice template, which is to be saved as a PDF and attached to the email, which must be titled with my invoice number, followed by the invoice period (not the invoice date, get it right for fuck’s sake) in parentheses. Should the PDF arrive upside down, tack on an extra day for processing and should the PDF arrive upside down more than twice, I go on a list.

Invoices should be timely, accurate and internally consistent in terms of voice, theme(s) and counterpoint characterization. Invoices should be properly cited in MLA 8 (not the recent 9, which everyone agrees is a step backward). “Please do not submit your invoice as a poem! Firm,” reads Amendment 23, Article 5b of the FC.

Then, the Thursday following the close of the invoice period (not the invoice date, get it right for fuck’s sake) I am to email the invoice to my accounting team contact. I must never send an invoice to anyone other than my accounting team contact, even if she is on vacation, decomposing in a shallow grave, or sworn off accounting for Lent; in which case, payment may be delayed as outlined in Schedule 19 of my FC which covers paid time off, festering and liturgical observances.

A word of advice for those following me: refrain from initiating small talk with your accounting team contact. It is understood that the weather where you live is different. The accountants have no hobbies or shared interests with you. They don’t eat food. They are apprised of exactly zero current events. They get exactly zero jokes. They’ve never had sex or diarrhea or been to a concert, and they’ve certainly never had diarrhea-sex at a concert. So, just conform to their rules and you’ll be fine. Quietly build your career, earning enough to buy toothpaste, or if you’re immensely successful, edibles.

Cha-ching.

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Candi Joneth is a writer; living, researching and writing from the cold coast of Maine. She is a master’s candidate in Creative Writing and Literature from Harvard. She has published over 200 news articles, over 50 features, for three newspapers. She uses humor to release tension and engage humanity.