I’ve almost gone to jail more times than I care to count.

Okay, twice.

One, Two.

I can count them, I just don’t like to.

The first time was not my fault… well… mostly. I’d gotten a speeding ticket in a tiny town in Texas in 2004 (my fault), but I jumped through all the necessary hoops to make sure that it didn’t go on my record. I drove three hours out of my way to meet with the judge personally and pay the necessary fees to take the probation plea.

Then I moved to England.

Two years later, I was moving back to the States, and it was time to renew my drivers’ license. I was informed that it had been suspended.

What?!

Yep. Judge Green had misfiled the paperwork and the ticket had been shown as non-paid. I was a wanted man.

To make a (VERY) long story short, I went through the steps (again) to right my name. FOUR TIMES. I was assured by Judge Green himself each time that the paperwork was filed.

And each time, it wasn’t.

I don’t know why I believed him the fourth time. Maybe I was just hoping that if I pulled the covers over my head, the monsters couldn’t see me.

In April of 2008, I embarked on a 7,900 mile tour of the western United States.

I made it as far as Seattle before my first encounter with the Flashing Lights. I was pulled me over for some lame reason that I cannot even remember now (not speeding). The officer initially informed me that, since my license was suspended, he was supposed to impound my car and take me to jail.

I don’t know if my story of the hapless judge’s office caused him to think of his bosses or if I just got the one pretty okay dude that I’ve ever met working the beat, but he looked me in the eye and said this:

“Look… okay, I’ve already written the ticket, so I have to give it to you. And, legally, I have to tell you – you’re not allowed to drive. Period. At all. If you get pulled over again, you will probably go to jail. But I also know you’re a long ways from home and you’re kind of in a spot, so… I’m gonna pull out and once I’m out of sight shrugs you do whatever you have to do. But legally, I am informing you… you’re not allowed to drive.”

I have never driven so carefully in my life as I did in the following weeks from Seattle back to Nashville.

The story ends better: I got one of the higher-ups at the Texas Department of Transportation to give Judge Green a tongue-lashing until he learned how to use a fax machine, AND the ticket, which had a mandatory court appearance (in Seattle) attached to it was mysteriously dropped before I even bought my plane ticket (I choose to believe that officer was the coolest dude in all of Seattle.)

I’ll tell you about the second one next week (it’s an even more convoluted story, and this time it is my fault) but the short point I want to make is this:

When you work at a 9-to-5 job, there are safety manuals, training courses, and a multitude of other pains-in-the-neck to ensure that you do not get your boss or your company into legal hot water.

Once you jump into the world of self-employment, guess what? You are on your own. It is totally up to you to make sure that you have your bases covered from a legal standpoint. Depending on your particular area of work, it may well be worth the investment to hire a lawyer to look over your finances, taxes, bulk e-mail opt-ins… anything that could get you fined, sued, or thrown in jail.

No more safety manuals. It’s all on your shoulders.

Even if that means you have to spend an hour a day on the phone with the “honorable” Judge Green in Marlin, Texas.

Photo by http://www.flickr.com/photos/superflurient/ / CC BY 2.0

Related posts

1. Diary of a Wage Slave Rebel: How to Disregard the Safe and Certain and Almost Go To Jail… (Twice) – Part 2
2. Diary of a Wage Slave Rebel: On Tour
3. Diary of a Wage Slave Rebel: From a Starbucks in Portland
4. Diary of a Wage Slave Rebel: Lessons from the Road
5. Diary of a Wage Slave Rebel: Stretching Your Personal Skills for Professional Gain