Let me tell you about the time I hired my first employee for my tiny backyard landscaping business – and how I nearly botched the whole thing with a janky employment contract I Frankensteined from Google. (Spoiler: It went about as smoothly as a lawnmower running on lemonade.)
You’re probably scrolling right now, sweating over how to make this official without sounding like a corporate robot. I get it. That first hire? Total excitement mixed with "Wait, am I even allowed to ask them to wear closed-toe shoes?" panic.
My rookie mistake: I grabbed a free template from some random .org site – probably created in the dial-up era – and slapped my company name on it. No lie, it had a clause about "typewriter maintenance responsibilities." (My employee, bless her, texted me: "Do I get hazard pay if the IBM Selectric acts up?")
Here’s what exploded in my face:
- The template didn’t mention anything about overtime pay (hello, California labor laws – turns out they matter)
- Zero clarity on who owned the Instagram content she created for client gardens
- A termination clause vaguer than my toddler’s crayon drawings
After a heart-attack moment when she almost left over a payment misunderstanding, my cousin’s boyfriend – a employment lawyer who charges more per hour than my riding mower costs – gave me the real talk over Bud Lights at a BBQ. "Dude," he said, wiping ranch dip off his hands, "Your contract’s about as useful as a screen door on a submarine."
What actually works (after 4 years and 8 hires):
- Start with your state’s labor website – California’s DIR has free baseline templates that won’t get you fined into oblivion
- Steal structure, not specifics – I use Rocket Lawyer’s format but rewrite every section in normal human language ("non-disclosure agreement" becomes "don’t blab client dirt to your TikTok followers")
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The Magic 6 Clauses my lawyer friend insists on:
- Exactly how/when people get paid (Venmo? Check? Direct deposit on Taco Tuesday?)
- Who owns what (If they design a logo during work hours, it’s yours. Midnight灵感s on their laptop? Theirs.)
- Exit rules (90 days notice doesn’t work for small biz – we do 2 weeks + return the company leaf blower)
- Always add a "We’re Not Mind Readers" section – Our #1 addition: "If something here feels icky or confusing, let’s fix it over coffee. No HR red tape crap."
Last month, my newest hire – a Gen Z plant whisperer – actually thanked me for the contract. "It’s like you read my anxiety about healthcare stipends," she said. Turns out, laying out the 401(k) match and PTO in bullet points with emojis (🤑= paydays!) made her trust the gig more.
The secret sauce? Your employment contract isn’t a Terms of Service nobody reads. It’s your company culture’s first handshake. Make it firm but human – like explaining the rules before a pickup basketball game at the park.
Grab that template (here’s the California DIR link I use), but hack it to pieces. Add voice notes. Doodle in the margins. And for the love of all that’s holy, test it on a real person before hitting print. If they laugh at any part, you’re winning.
Still stuck? DM me. I’ll send you our "emoji edition" sample – complete with a 🔥 clause about who buys the tacos when we work late. Because that’s what really matters in the end, right?