A short while back, I got an email from someone I’d done some projects for once upon a time. The note set me back on my heels.
Let me back up — the fact that I got a note from this particular contact at all was a pretty major shock. This is a former client, and the last words from them were a scathing condemnation of my professionalism. My sin: telling the truth. They had worked successfully with me for nearly a year. However, a mistake on their part had them asking me to do what amounted to six-plus hours of work and be happy with just two hours of pay.
I said it wasn’t possible. Three times, I said it wasn’t possible, in writing, and that the end product would be a rough draft. There were going to be no surprises — the job would be half done. And it was. And the client was livid. With me. For a mistake they made, and for not accepting that I wasn’t going to donate my time to clear it up.
And I would do indeed help out a client under normal circumstances. A one-time gesture of goodwill would cement a good relationship.
This was not a good relationship. The client was definitely a nice person, but was slow on payment, scattered (a LOT of conference calls they arranged and never showed up for, thus wasting my time), making many mistakes that cost me time and money, and not great at organizing their own direction. I’d had to ask repeatedly for payment and threaten collection. And those phone calls that never happened….in a world of Calendar apps, there was no excuse for it.
While I believe the client was someone who was wanting a good relationship, for me it had to be a reciprocal one. I wasn’t seeing it. So I made the decision to call a halt to any notion that I would be donating my time to help them clear up their mistakes. I knew if I allowed it once, it would become normalized. The angry email ensued, and I let their harsh words be the last between us. I don’t respond to emotional outbursts from clients other than to lose their contact info.
So imagine my shock when the former client, who’d railed at me got in touch to say hello and to tell me that now, they’re writing, too. They wanted to talk with me about their projects and ask for some advice.
Can you smell that? It’s the embers from a well-charred bridge.
The same thing happened not long ago with a prospective client, who couldn’t help themselves but to put me in some place they thought I belonged because I had the audacity to charge a fair rate for my work. I drew up the proposal after the phone call, on which I’d told this client exactly what I’d be charging. On follow up, I was told how “outrageous” my pricing was.
Fast forward six years. Guess who showed up in my email wanting to chat me up about some potential PR work?
Alas, I was just too busy working with clients who think my rate is fair. Rotten luck for you, prospective client.
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There’s a point to all this.
Everything you say to a client, especially things you put in writing, leave a lasting impression. Why does that matter?
Because corporate life is transient. Employees become self-employed, or become writers, or work in other industries and companies, bumping into these same people. Ticking off one person at the top, or even an influencer in the middle somewhere, can have a ripple effect. Yes, even ticking off a writer can have a similar ripple effect. The client in my first example has shown up here a few times as an example of a difficult client. If I put a name to them, that would be devastating. Even if I say something in person to a person in the same industry, there goes that reputation. Even if it’s a minor complaint, that leaves a stain.
That can happen to any of us — writer, I’m looking at you.
[bctt tweet=”When a #freelancer burns a bridge, it doesn’t get rebuilt.” username=”LoriWidmer”]
Most likely, you’ve seen it — writers online airing their complaints openly about a client without any attempt to mask identity, a project, a political opinion, and using words they’d never utter in a job interview. One writer I knew a decade ago used their blog to call out the “scam client” by name. Unless it’s an actual scam, that’s not a great way to build a network, don’t you think?
Some pointers for those with heavy opinions that they believe the world is owed:
- Stop typing
- Step away
- Sleep on it
- Sleep on it again
- Find something nice to say about someone else
It will never win you any favor with clients to share strong, controversial, inappropriate comments in public. It will never help your cause to let a client know what a pain in the ass they are. They may be, but as one writer’s relative pointed out long ago about oversharing: “Just because they need to hear it doesn’t mean you are the one who needs to tell them.”
If you want to bitch about a client, email a friend or trusted fellow writer. If the client is playing emotional games, step back (no one has to respond immediately), find the facts, respond with the facts. Only the facts. Or don’t respond at all if the charge is unfounded or hateful.
That’s the best way to burn a bridge — silently and with your dignity intact.
Writers, what are some of the bridges that have been burned for you along the way?
Have you burned any yourself? Did you ever regret it?
6 responses to “Why Burning Freelance Writing Bridges Sucks”
Holy cow. The entitlement.
I’ve burned a bridge only once that I recall, and it was for the same reason you did. The client was beginning to be a slow payer. Eventually, he asked if he could pay by credit card. I don’t remember exactly how it devolved from there, but in the end, the client got mad when I wasn’t a team player on his launch.
Nope, dude, you launched a business. I already have one. If you want a partner, that’s a different story.
Don’t get me wrong. I go above and beyond for lots of clients in lots of ways. But the ones who EXPECT you to roll with their punches and get mad if you don’t? Nope, you’ve got the wrong gal.
Gabriella, that sounds like the client burned the bridge, not you. And good riddance to him!
About that pseudo-partnership on his business launch: you nailed it. That’s exactly what he expected — your unwavering loyalty and buy-in to his passion. When will some of these people learn that their labor of love is not our sacrifice, too?
Once had a client who insisted on weekly, unpaid “team” calls. Since I wasn’t getting paid and I had paying work in front of me, I skipped the second call. My god, my phones and email went nuts — where are you? We’re having a team call, did you forget? Phone in as soon as you can.
I did. Not once did they ask me a question, refer to anything I was doing, or pay me for my time. This is the same client who asked if I’d refer prospective clients to them. Right. Next!
I’ve never publicly named even the worst of past clients, but I have created nicknamed used to discuss them in public forums. They likely wouldn’t recognize themselves in my comments, and if they did, they’re smart enough to realize I have disguised their identity. I have named them privately to other writers who have either worked for them or said they were going to contact them.
The worst clients weren’t trying to actively cheat writers. They simply didn’t know how to treat us properly. Maybe one day they’ll realized their turnover rate wouldn’t be as high if they learn to treat freelancers with professional respect.
That reminds me: lately I’ve noticed multiple job listings from the same content company. Every couple months they advertise for the same freelance positions. Their first mistake: admitting they only pay $20/hour. Just a theory, but maybe if they paid better, or demanded less for the amount they pay, contributors would last more than a couple weeks?
I’ve not named any publicly either, Paula. I change up the details enough that they wouldn’t recognize themselves even if they were reading. Hmm, would be interesting if they thought ‘Wow, that client’s a real jerk!’ wouldn’t it?
I wish I could say the same about clients not actively trying to cheat writers. I’ve had it happen, thankfully just a few times, that the intent from the outset was to get as much work out of me as possible before they disappeared. It’s why payment up front makes so much sense.
Gee, $20 an hour and they wonder why they’re not keeping freelancers? Wonder what the workload is like. I know someone who just quit a FT job because it required them to work from 5 am to well past 6 pm. No benefits, of course.
It’s when I see employers/clients like that that I wonder about the karma that’s owed to so many people out there.
Well said, Lori. I don’t name any publicly, either, and only mention them privately if I need to warn a fellow freelancer. But I agree that once a bridge is burned, it stays burned. I have a short list of people I’ll never work with again. It’s not worth the hassle. But I am sometimes amused by people contacting me after forgetting the last conversation we had – I usually just chuckle to myself before turning them down.
Yup, I’ve definitely burned a few bridges over the years. One was working for someone who always payed late, scheduled calls and never showed up, and didn’t ever understand I couldn’t just drop everything and do what he asked right away. Other clients just kind of fell away after I kept turning them down for better paying work. And other client I loved on a personal level and they paid well, but I just no longer felt okay with the content they were asking me to write. That one was tough.