I work as a freelance writer. After losing my full-time job in April after the coronavirus pandemic exploded and spending several months applying to and not getting all kinds of “regular” jobs, I got a couple of leads for “anchor gigs” — steady, reliable sources of freelance income that can pay the bills, leaving me with some time to also write other, usually more enjoyable, things.

There are no guarantees to any aspects of my life as a freelancer. Some weeks, I have a steady stream of commissions or ideas for pitches for stories. Other weeks, my inbox is quiet: a relief in some ways, completely dreadful in others. My anchor gigs do just what their moniker implies: hold my life down. They relieve my worry that I won’t be able to pay rent. Still, there is no guarantee that this month won’t be my last at any given one of them. I have to court them, prove my worthiness, convince them to stay.

Millions of workers are like me, not to mention the huge number of at-will employees who have a bit more job security than me, but not much. Freelance work is particularly precarious, but virtually all jobs are now. We bounce around, looking for a job that fits, a job that pays, or, ideally, “a job that stays.”