Medium’s Paid Partner Program — The Friend I Love To Hate

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Can the quantum physicists who came up with Medium’s Paid Partner Program actual payment system explain to me if I get more money for a story that received 168 claps from 17 applauders or one that received 209 claps from 9 applauders? Better yet, whatever the answer is, can you tell me why that is the case? Because I feel like, you definitely can’t.

I feel like your whole system is fly by night. There’s no exact value to claps. Forgive me for repeating myself from past posts but it’s all arbitrary, you pay out as you see fit and hold back as you please. You promote the same bullshit nobody cares about and force me to write things like this.

Oh my dearest Medium — in the words of Adele — we could have had it all.

What you’re seeing here is The Body That’s Tired of Getting Fucked For Money.

And not in a fun, sexually exhilarating kind of way.

Medium just had the audacity to send me a failure of membership payment notice, despite the fact I use the same pre-paid card to pay my subscription fee as I do to receive my payment for The Paid Partner Program.

I don’t know what to tell you guys at this point — had you paid me more last month maybe there’d be $5 on it to take from me and give to Jeff Bezos or Joseph Gordon Levitt. No wonder he needs the money, Third Rock wasn’t even fucking funny.

In a recent post, I quoted either Tom Kuegler or Todd Brison when I said “I’m coming for the heavyweight title, you alright with that?” I was half kidding but now I’m as serious as an AIDS test. I’m coming for it. Out of spite. Despite you.

I worked hard this month. In writing and in life. A family member I love dearly spent most of the month in the hospital with heart failure. At 33 years old, she needs a heart transplant. When I wasn’t slaving away at this very laptop this month, or busting my ass laboring at a general contracting job, I was taking care of her kids — and was happy to do it.

But on top of all of that, I really gave the Paid Partner Program all I had this month, in terms of depth anyway. I didn’t publish an obnoxious amount of member stories. I just put a lot of thought, heart and time into the ones I did.

And for what? To receive $78.30. I’m baffled. I don’t know where to go at this point. I don’t know what you want from me. It feels like you want me to leave, which is exactly why I’m staying. I can’t wait to be successful on here, without your help.

Listen, this isn’t all about you, I’m in rarer form than usual. I just received a check from the only other organization that pays me for my writing — three weeks late, after I sent out a friendly reminder — for 20% less than usual. I’m just fucking tired. And I’m taking my frustrations out on you because I don’t have kids.

But truthfully, I was really hoping this was the month we let bygones be bygones and moved forward. Instead, it’s more of the same. It just amazes me how little the higher ups of this platform and so many other publications value their actual talent. I’m just tired of it and done complaining about it after this. All I know is, with or without you, because of you or despite you — I will succeed. Mark my words. Winners win. I won’t accept failure. I’m done, that’s all I got for now. Until next time.

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