Let’s be real: if you’ve ever tried to earn a living as a photographer, you’ve basically signed up for your own version of Squid Game.

You may not be wearing a green tracksuit (although, hey, comfy), and there may not be a giant robot doll shouting “Red Light, Green Light!” — but emotionally? It’s basically the same thing.

You start with dreams. Then someone yells “exposure bucks,” and suddenly you’re sprinting toward survival with a camera in one hand and three overdue invoices in the other.

Welcome to Photog Game. Try not to die.

Round One: “Red Light, Green Light”

(Or: Waiting for Clients to Respond to Confirm)

You send a quote.
You wait.
They say, “We love your work!”
You wait.
They say, “Just checking with finance.”
You wait.
They disappear.
You blink. You’re out.

Being a photographer sometimes feels like trying to inch forward without getting ghosted to death. Move too fast — you’re desperate. Move too slow — they forget you exist. It’s a delicate ballet of hope and heartburn.

Round Two: “Honeycomb Challenge”

(Or: Budget Meetings with Impossible Expectations)

Client: “We want high-end fashion editorial shots with cinematic lighting, … and with feral otters from the Singapore River.”
You: “Sure! What’s the budget?”
Client: “$150. But you get exposure”

(My thought bubble: Exposure?  What’s your magazine circulation?  Who even read magazines nowadays?  Specifically, who reads your magazine?)

This is the freelance version of carving a delicate shape out of a sugar cookie using a spork while blindfolded — and if you break it? 

Round Three: Tug of War

(Or: Arguing for Your Rates on the Phone)

This is the moment when you and your dignity stand on one side of the rope… and on the other side is the client, their cousin with a Canon Rebel, and their belief that “anyone with a good phone can take pictures now.”

You pull.
You plead.
You recite your gear list, your experience, your years of learning lighting ratios.
You quote David Hobby like a sacred text.
They ask if you can also throw in a free BTS video.

Gravity wins.

Round Four: Marbles

(Or: Competing Against Other Photographers Who Are Also Your Friends)

You love them. You admire their work.
You also just bid on the same job.
Now it’s either you or them.

You exchange polite emails:
“Good luck!”
“You too!”
You both post vague IG Stories with 🫠 emojis.

Meanwhile, the client goes with someone else entirely. For half the budget. And a feral otter from the Singapore River

Round Five: Glass Bridge

(Or: Picking Gear With Limited Budget and 1 Shot)

Should I upgrade to the Fujifilm GFX100 II?
Do I really need the GF23mm lens?
Do I need that Profoto flash? Or do I need to eat?

Every step feels like a gamble. One wrong financial decision and it’s ramen until Q4.

You try to step carefully. Then your favorite lens falls off the camera strap and shatters on the floor. Congratulations — you have lost the game, but gained character development.

The Final Round: Squid Game

(Or: Pitching Your Value to a Client Who Thinks They Can DIY)

You show your portfolio.
You explain the value of storytelling.
You reference brand identity, visual cohesion, and strategic creativity.
The snotty Creative Director with the painfully hip curly hair shows you a TikTok someone else done of a totally different product..
They say, “We want this vibe.”

You lie down.
You accept fate.
You photograph their product anyway.
You make it look good — because you’re a professional, dammit.

Final Thoughts (Before We All Get Eliminated)

Look — being a photographer in today’s world is a kind of survival game. You need grit, luck, and the ability to shoot in three lighting scenarios with 10 minutes and no assistant.

But you also need humor. You need perspective. And you need other photographers to laugh with when everything feels just a little too much like a dystopian Netflix metaphor.

So to everyone out there dodging red lights, carving honeycombs with kit lenses, and crossing glass bridges on rental gear — I see you. I salute you. And may the exposure be actual money this time.

Green light. Let’s shoot.