No one dictates your office hours, docks your pay for tardiness; coffee breaks are not timed, and personal calls are not monitored when you are self-employed.

Deciding to change the status of your employment takes a leap of faith or a brutal look at reality. It amuses me when unions negotiate job security, treating it as a right, fighting against sub-contractors and part-time staff to maintain high paying union members' rights. If you are so protected and are in that group, you may have an untarnished view, a naive perspective, of what is happening in the outside world.

I began my professional life in the seventies at a time when a raise was never automatic. An employee had to take the long walk, the distance between the boss' door and his desk, and plead his case. It was perfectly acceptable to use a recent marriage or the birth of a child, as long as you were a man. It was the need for more money that was the root of the request. These 'reasons' didn't work for women as employers assumed a husband would look after his wife, not the company for whom she worked. Rarely, in average jobs, would any employee trot out their accomplishments as the basis for the raise. The boss would just smirk, telling the fool that his high level performance was expected, not rewarded.

Until the early nineties, getting fired was shameful. It was a dirty secret. To be terminated by a company bespoke of the person's idleness, sloth or incompetence. The nineties were golden years for middle and upper management that were dismissed. New terminology, 'the gold umbrella' accurately described the documentation that accompanied termination papers. Depending on a person's ability to embarrass his employer in public, the cheque the departing person received could be quite sizeable. While there still was a stigma attached, the money more than compensated for any remnant of shame.

Getting fired slowly began to take on an enviable quality, but then companies began to lobby government to protect them against large settlements. Laws were enacted to protect corporations against their own mistakes. The most common termination pay-out was based on one week's pay for every year of employment.

This opened the door to a new breed of attorneys who specialized in labour law. Occasionally they were successful in renegotiating their client's settlement. More often than not, their fees ate up the original pay-out and many savings accounts. They fought corporation lawyers, all on retainer, who simply waited until their adversaries' client ran out of money and gave up the struggle.

It became common practice to 'clean house.' As new management was hired they wanted their own people. Mergers created overlapping positions, and a new word leaked into business vocabulary. Downsizing. There was little sympathy for a dismissed employee as companies cited compelling financial difficulties in maintaining profitability.

Job security was a hollow memory, and in my case, it was non-existent. I was employed as a manufacturing sales representative. My remuneration consisted of a base salary, a company car, a limited expense account, and the promise that I could keep my job if I attained my sales quotas. It was entirely up to me to source new customers, and increase sales with existing accounts, regardless of market conditions.

The year gold tripled in value put a sharp halt to any possibility to meet my budget. Customer's simply stopped buying jewellery and turned their attention to how to exploit their current inventory that had soared in book value. Several of my major customers went into receivership and bankruptcies were rampant. That didn't stop management from continuing to expect the sales force to bring in the numbers. I watched as several of my colleagues were axed. It was only a matter of time before they got to me. It wasn't as if I could go to a competitor. All companies in the jewellery business were frozen in fear.

I toyed with the idea of changing industries, relying on the mantra that if one was a true salesman, they could sell anything. My 'dream job,' or at least my most positive ideal, was to sell toilet paper. I felt that was the one commodity that was recession-proof. But, I was well connected with major retailers, and that strength would have disappeared with a different commodity. I would have had to start over.

In the end, I approached management, and negotiated a new contract that changed my status from employee to an independent sales agent. With my simple signature, I gave up the base salary, the car and expenses, and then went home and threw up.

Some people might have considered this a brave move, but anyone who is in the selling game knows that you're only as good as your last sale. Motivation takes many forms. The fear-mongering and threats of dismissal by management did not drive me to work harder; in fact, those tactics almost destroyed my spirit. Knowing that I was in charge of my own destiny was both terrifying and exhilarating.

Like many people who decide to give self-employment a whirl, my first week of independent employment was spent setting up a home office. I took great joy in purchasing a fax machine, installing a business phone and shopping with glee for office supplies. I wrote letters to clients advising them of my new contact numbers and swivelled in my faux-pas leather office chair. My favourite moments in the early weeks were tuning into traffic reports and smirking, thinking about how much time I saved by not commuting to 'the office.' I luxuriated into strolling up to my desk wearing a track suit, bra-less, without having to pause for a shower before going to work.

Having set up an accounting system, I dutifully filled up my excel file with numbers representing my expenses and commissions. After the first month I swallowed hard when I saw how my costs exceeded my income. I laughed it off, putting it down to start-up expenses. The second month's receipts began to scare me, and I didn't need a sales manager to explain the numbers.

It was the fear of failure that spurred me on more than anything, that and my ego. I'd always considered myself a good salesperson. I enjoyed my leisurely breakfasts too much. I'd fallen for the slump in our industry and placated myself with platitudes, embellishing my self-made lies to myself about my lack of aggression in selling, by pre-determining there were limited new opportunities, and congratulating myself in the amount of money I'd actually saved by not running the car back and forth between customers' offices.

My attitude changed and I began to treat myself differently. I got up in the morning, showered, dressed and put on make-up. Even if I didn't have appointments, I was ready in a heartbeat to jump in the car and go after the business. I went back to the disciplines I used when I was on salary, and while I tried to avoid expensive lunches, I'd show up at my customers offices with coffee and donuts. Just by being there, I'd often get a chance to bid on a promotion or last minute flyer items. Those chance opportunities translated into commissions.

Three decades later, gold has once again skyrocketed, tripled in value from just a few years ago. It's a deja-vu experience, yet my personal circumstances have changed.

Looking back, I made a good decision. By stepping out, giving up the pseudo job security made me a partner in the companies I represented. I was a tangible expense in their costing of product. They could easily calculate the material and labour costs, factor in their profits, and add in the cost of sales; that would be me.

I never had to negotiate vacation weeks or plead for a raise. I earned every dime, and had some spectacular years. I've taken extended vacations and technology has allowed me to work from any beach, country or city. Lunches can last all day. Weekends have no elevated status. I work eighteen-hour days when needed and can attend school functions mid-week, and volunteer, when I am in a masochistic mind frame, to be a chaperone for one of my grandchildren's field trips.

Since gold has gone crazy once more, jewellery and other luxury items have become unaffordable, particularly against the challenges of the current economic reality. People are losing their jobs and homes. Yet, I sincerely think that this may be a perfect time for entrepreneurs and brave souls to look inward and think about their innate talents and self-reliance.

However, I would strongly suggest that if circumstances or personal ambition allows you to consider self-employment as an option, choose toilet paper as your base commodity.