‘Jan is a freelance stripper,’ begins a feature in the Observer Magazine’s 2 December 1979 issue. ‘In theory, she chooses where she will take her clothes off and for whom. In practice, her extravagant lifestyle and insatiable appetite for luxuries mean that she usually works whenever and wherever she can.’
Why are we reading about her? Because she’s self-employed – one of a growing number at the time, as Margaret Thatcher’s government began glorifying enterprise culture. ‘As masters of their own destiny they enjoy freedoms unknown to the average commuter,’ writes Angela Levin, who later became a royal biographer, ‘but they have no security, no pensions, no sick leave and little spare time. Why do so many people choose to do it?’
Turns out that Jan likes the steady income (she’s in demand), and she enjoys choosing her own hours – the liberation of it all. Pat Flannery’s the same. He’s a freelance builder. ‘I like to be my own boss,’ he tells Levin. ‘And there’s always the possibility I can take the odd day off.’ He works a 10-hour day, Levin later reveals, six days a week. ‘I’m too available,’ Pat says. ‘All the clients have my phone number.’
What of Raissa Page, the photographer? She gave up a comfortable income as a social worker to become a photojournalist, at 44. Things are tough. ‘It’s been hard getting used to the fact that there is no fat wage packet at the end of the month,’ she says. ‘Particularly if the month has been a lean one.’ Levin is sympathetic, while also on staff, presumably.
According to the Office for National Statistics, 4.8 million people were self-employed in 2017. That’s 15% of the workforce: builders, strippers, photographers, all sorts. Have things changed since the 70s? Not much. Jan sums up why: ‘You mustn’t get sick.’
