Mary

That right there, Paula — she had already approved the copy. That’s where your obligation (and frankly, mine with the project I’m describing above) ended.

I suspect someone above her had said the sources she gave you weren’t up to snuff, but if she’s already signed off on the project, it’s no longer something you’re required to fix, particularly over a holiday week. That’s insane.

In my case, I opted to fix what wasn’t broken instead of pointing out that no, they’d already approved and signed off on the project. And that the stated “offense” I was being accused of was neither unethical nor uncommon practice. But I tried to please. Like Solitaire says though, the well was already poisoned. The way this client talked to me, chastising me and acting as though I’d lit her house on fire, was proof that relationship was dead at that point.

Like Solitaire, I found it to be a lesson in how to stand up for myself professionally. Funny how years later, we are still doing that.

Solitaire, that would have been a good response. Alas, like me, you fell into the emotional trap. And you’ve pointed out the most important lesson to anyone going through this — “the well was poisoned” once the falling out occurred. Even if she had forgiven you, I doubt she would be able to forget her own unprofessional behavior. And you’d be the reminder of her own indiscretion.

In early October I turned in my copy, asking the client to let me know if she needed changes. She replied that they almost always have “tweaks” so not to be worried if they ask for a revision, something they almost always do.

No further word from her until December 22 or 23, when I was out of town for the holidays. She sent me the edited copy which retained quite a bit of my writing, plus notes saying certain sources weren’t of the caliber they required—no matter that she’d approved or suggested every single one of those sources. She told me to include something we’d already agreed to removed (because experts I’d spoken with said it wasn’t a real issue), so I told her a second time that her idea didn’t pan out, so she told me to add another point off the long list she’d originally provided, meaning yet another interview. She gave me 2-1/2 weeks to complete my revision, apparently forgetting it was the holidays an no one was in their offices, including me. Better yet, on the first or second business day of the new year she said she needed the revision by Friday—nearly a week earlier than she first said. I told her I’d do my best, to which she replied, “You led me to believe you were a professional.”

Really? What’s unprofessional about not over-promising you’ll somehow snag impossible interviews with virtually no notice?

Somehow I managed to round up new sources, do the interviews, rewrite the piece and turn it in on the new deadline. She replied “got it,” and nothing more.

Months passed. I kept checking for the piece to come out, but nothing. In late April someone from their office sent me papers to fill out so I figured it had finally been approved and I’d be paid. (They pay on acceptance.) One question was whether you expected to work with the company in the future; I marked “no” since I never want to deal with that dreadful woman again. I asked when my copy would run and they said, “Oh, didn’t she tell you? It was axed last month.” The controlling coward who needed my copy in such a rush that she cut almost a week off an already tight deadline sat on the copy for over four months before deciding not to use it, then never bothered to tell me. And she suggested I was less than professional. A few days later she emailed me saying, “Sorry. I thought someone told you. You’ll get a kill fee.” Someone?

The only way nightmare clients like these keep their jobs must be because so many freelancers take the blame. Like you, Lori, when two of the sources asked about it I gave them the short, honest answer: After getting all of the changes she requested, the client sat on the project several months before deciding not to use it.

It’s time to stop enabling bad clients.

But while I’ll own that little piece of it, her email reply started with that sentence and went on to attack me on two other matters, flinging wild accusations, and saying essentially that we could do things her way or we could “reconsider” my contract. It was one of the angriest, most threatening emails I’ve ever received from someone I had met face to face.

Here’s the reply I wish I had sent: “You have misunderstood my intent, and your reaction is grossly disproportionate to the imagined offense. I will do as you instruct, of course.”

Instead, I fell all over myself apologizing. The gig paid pretty well, and there was some possibility of it turning into a full-time job, so I spent the rest of the project trying to get back into her good graces. I should have realized the well was poisoned. We eventually parted on nominally cordial terms, but even though the gig was important to me professionally, I hesitate to cite it with potential clients or employers.

I wish the story had a happy ending. Here’s my best shot: I’ve learned (again) not to let myself be bullied. Yay me.