IN an ideal world things would be so simple. You would just turn up for work, do what you had to do, and then somebody would hand you a brown paper bag with loads of cash in it.

Well, not in the world of the self-employed. Things just aren't that simple. Before you can even think about going to work, you have to have a job to go to.

The first step is relatively simple. Somebody phones up, you talk for a while, fix up an appointment, and then pop along to see them. So far so good. The meeting is usually quite good fun; a bit of enthusiasm, a few scratched marks in the dust, a bit of measuring and away you go. The next and vital stage is the cooling off period, time to decide whether or not you could stand working for an anally-retentive Cyclops with halitosis who keeps their one beady eye on you all day while breathing down your neck. Presuming that the answer to this last question is yes, because your sinuses are shot to hell, and you find the single eye in the middle of the forehead strangely attractive, that takes you to the next and most scary stage - the devis, or quote.

Just typing the word brings me out in a cold sweat. I would guess that I am fairly typical among builders, in that I am quite happy to do what I do: I lump and hump stuff about, create things, demolish things, drink tea and scratch. That is my life and I am quite comfortable with that. I am not an administrator/businessperson. Paperwork is an alien concept, and the devis is the nadir.

I know that it is one of the most important parts of the job. The devis holds the key to whether you will be earning 10 bob a day or a king's ransom. The job is won or lost by the figures that you put in front of the client. Your price for re-pointing that wall will enable the client to deduce either that you are a crook or a profiteer, or a complete dimwit for offering to do it so cheaply.

Therein lies the extra pressure. The devis in France is a binding contract. If I send Monsieur Eiffel an official devis promising to repaint his tower for 7 Euros and he signs the sheet of paper, I am legally obliged to do the job - or find somebody even more stupid than myself to do it, and pay them. By the same token, once they have signed up they have to pay me to do the work even if they decide they no longer want it done. One repainted tower whether you like it or not.

If you need work, you have to type up a devis. This has even prompted me to give up doing smaller jobs, because I reckon that doing one big devis every few months is better than doing lots of small ones. The down side to that is that any elephant hiding in the wardrobe is that much larger. As you may have guessed, I am in the middle of doing a devis right now. The in-tray is now impeccably empty, all of the cats have been stroked at least twice, tea has been brewed and this article is almost finished. And the devis is still waiting for me.

Perhaps I could sub-contract it, but then somebody else would have to prepare me a devis for the work, and I wouldn't wish that on anyone.