In the battle of ask culture vs. guess culture, askers are holding all the cards
Consider a first-season show where the script coordinator has been working since day 1. Eight episodes in, the writers' assistant gets staffed somewhere else, and the writers' PA gets promoted. The new writers' assistant immediately tells the showrunner, within earshot of your windowless office, that she expects a freelance by the end of the (ten episode) season. You — you hard-working and diligent script coordinator you — are aghast. This is beyond the pale. There are rules. Decorum. And her asking for something that you are arguable more entitled to is a direct affront. The umbrage you feel is appropriate. And if the showrunner says yes, you'd be justified to cancel your Dropbox subscription, stick your hard drive in the microwave, and dropkick the jar of peanut-butter-filled pretzel nuggets. But there's a bigger problem, my dear, fellow script coordinator. You are a guesser.
Guessers and Askers
“When people are uncomfortable saying ‘no’, they're likely to say ‘yes’”.
In a The Atlantic article that should be required reading for every person entering the industry, Alex Eichler describes the breakdown of askers and guessers. Askers live by a "doesn't hurt to ask" philosophy. Like a 5-year-old asking for yet another highly refined carbohydrate, they adhere to a "no harm, no foul" perspective where they just ask for whatever they want from whoever crosses their path.
Guessers are intelligent, nuanced individuals who are attuned to cultural mores and nuance. They understand that a ten-episode show likely already has every episode assigned to a writer and wouldn't want to hurt their chances of getting a freelance (or at least a co-story by) in the second season by making their showrunner uncomfortable. Asking for something that makes someone uncomfortable, and pushing them into a corner where they have to give an uncomfortable "no", leaves a bad taste in a guesser's mouth.
And that's the problem. When people are uncomfortable saying "no", they're likely to say "yes". Which means the person being told "yes" and getting the opportunity to leapfrog you in your writing career is the person who's been a writer's assistant (and wears glasses frames devoid of any glass, prescription or otherwise) for 28 hours.
Psychic Tension and Drama
The cruel irony of ask vs. guess culture is that the guesser bears the empathic weight of the dichotomy. Sure, an asker might be annoyed that they don't get what they want or that they can't suss out the unwritten rules of human interaction, but it's the guesser who's put through the emotional wringer: first, by censoring themselves and waiting until they're pretty sure they'll get a "yes" in response to a requested favor (that's why they're called guessers), and second, by empathizing with the disappointment someone might feel when the guesser themselves has to say "no" to someone else. It's a double-whammy for guessers. And for askers, there's literally no shame in asking because there's no shame in being told "no".
An Indecent Proposal is based entirely on the drama inflicted on two guessers by one unbridled asker.
Hard Truths and Bitter Pills
“You only get more money if you ask for it.”
Let's talk about studios. Studios are in the business of making as much money as they can and paying people as little as they can get away with. It's why negotiating for your salary as a script coordinator always starts with an offer of guild minimum (which, of course, the studios will soften by calling it scale). And the truth is that unless you ask for more money, the studios have no reason to give it to you. No development coordinator in the sordid history of entertainment has gone on the record to say, "Script coordinators are so talented and important that we should just throw an extra four dollars per hour at them because...well, because they're so great." You only get more money if you ask for it.
Consider the zero-sum situation where a single freelance is dangled before an eager team of support staff. If the showrunner lives in ask culture (which is more likely than you think), then there's no discomfort, no awkwardness telling an assistant "no" when they ask for an episode. If the showrunner is among the guessers, an ask assistant doesn't care: they want the freelance and there's no harm in asking. The only time there's discomfort is when a guess script coordinator asks the guess showrunner and the showrunner plans to say no. But if they're planning to say no to you, then you won't get a freelance whether or not you asked for it, and...they're management. They're supposed to be okay being occasional uncomfortable.
This overly simplified chart that reduces all human interactions to ask vs. guess should make the situation clear:
No showrunner has ever told their script coordinator, "Well, I liked you enough to help you advance your career, but now that you've advocated for yourself, I'm denying you the opportunity."
You have nothing to lose by asking. And showrunners are going to have to say no to everyone but the one person who gets the coveted episode. They'll be fine.
Relish Discomfort
There is one thing, and one thing only holding you back: the discomfort ingrained in you by generations of culture. Studios know this. In order to hold on to the one thing they care (cash money), they'll prey on this discomfort. Any producer who laughs at a script coordinator for asking more than guild minimum is using psychological warfare to shame them into accepting less pay. They don't care how it makes you feel. They just care about paying you as little as they can humanly (and legally) get away with.
The only way you'll get more is by facing the discomfort that comes with asking. At the risk of oversimplifying once again, discomfort = more money. Or, if we follow the contrapositive, less money = comfort. Is comfort so great you'll accept less money for it? No. It's like strength training, yoga, or generally anything healthy: discomfort is a signal you're doing something right.
When All Else Fails
Advocating for yourself isn't always easy, but consider this: if you've ever script coordinated before, then your experience should bring you more than an inexperienced, first-season SC should make. If you've been on a show for one season, historically, you'd be in the running for the next one. And at any other job in a developed nation, you'd at least get a 3% cost of living adjustment after the first year. So if Netflix is too cheap to afford you for a second season, you can always walk. But at least ask first, you snazzy guesser. You deserve it.
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