I was reading through some old social media posts recently and came across discussion of a job posting that just plain sucked. In fact, I blogged about it not long ago right here.
The issue was that the job poster, a household-name publication, was presenting a full-time employee position as a freelance job. Why? Because in doing so, they felt they could dictate your hours and still avoid paying you benefits or hey, a fighting wage. When pressed, the job poster added this: “The role I am hiring for is paid hourly.”
Again, how is this freelance? Oh wait. It isn’t.
That, my writer friend, is why we as freelancers need to know how to cut through the bullshit. For there are plenty of would-be clients who will spin words and use confusion to convince you that the raw deal in front of you is a good gig.
Here are some of the more common red flags:
“An easy job for the right person.”
That is a client who is either woefully uninformed on how long a project takes or one who expects you to be able to turn out large projects around faster than possible. It’s also a euphemism for “We won’t be paying much for this.”
The tell: Any time a client tries to dumb down the project size or your ability to do it (remember, they think the “right person” can do this blindfolded), there’s something being hidden. It could be willful or just plain ignorance.
“Low pay to start with potential for higher-paying, ongoing work.”
“For the right person” I’d guess. Oh please, are we serious? This is a client who wants someone now. They’re not really promising you anything beyond that low-paying crap, are they? It’s also a dangling carrot trick: You’ll be busting your hump to impress them for that mythical “potential.”
The tell: The word “potential” is their out. Oh sure, they may mean it, but unless you can pin them down to contracted, future work, you’re rolling the dice, aren’t you?
“We need a 750-word comprehensive overview of workers comp.”
Honey, unrealistic much? I faced this very scenario way back at the start of my freelance writing career. The client was destined to be disappointed, and I was destined to be disappointing. No one can tackle a massive subject like that in just a few paragraphs.
The tell: Their needs didn’t match reality. They’d burned through four other writers and weren’t getting any closer because they didn’t know what they really wanted. And I couldn’t get them to narrow it. When reality is that far from sight, you’re wasting your time. And they’re wasting your time, too.
“We don’t need a contract. I trust you.”
Then you’re a fool and we don’t need fools for clients. The more a client insists you don’t need a contract, the more you need that damn contract. See, a contract puts you both on equal footing, which means you’re partners in this project. Partners don’t accept terms they don’t like.
The tell: The client turns states it as them trusting you. However, trust is a two-way street. They haven’t proven themselves to you yet, have they? And they have one strike against them already — they want to forego any legally binding agreement.
“We require you to have insurance.”
This is happening so much more often, and honestly, it makes little sense. First, insurance for freelancers is tough to get. The few policies that are out there aren’t necessarily suited for freelance writers. Even my own, which was an ideal policy, is not being renewed because the insurance company isn’t writing the risk anymore.
Second, all clients have final approval. That means any errors that they accept are not your responsibility, nor should they be. However, some top-tier clients have asked me to get $2 million minimum in liability coverage. Not possible. The one insurance company I found that would do that required a rather large deductible and a high premium, and they excluded the very thing I needed them to cover.
The tell: They “require” it. Fine. Then underwrite it, add me to your corporate policy, or find someone else. Freelance writers do not have access to affordable or even applicable insurance. In my 23 years of doing this, I have never agreed to the insurance requirement. I bowed out of projects, too. Happily. Any client that fussy isn’t going to be easy to work with.
“I need you to be instantly accessible between 8 am and 6 pm.”
No. Hell freaking no. Unless you are paying me for those stand-by hours, forget it. I had one client I’d told several times I wouldn’t be around a certain weekend. She had three weeks to get back to me with edits. Guess when she tried to contact me. You own a business. You are allowed to set and maintain professional boundaries.
The tell: “Instantly accessible.” Their fire is not your emergency. They can plan better. If they did, they wouldn’t need endless access to you.
There are more red flags — a client contract that requires you to accept all liability for a year after you deliver the piece (and Brad from marketing introduces errors in the copy), a client who refuses to let you follow your own work process, contracts that are poorly written, etc. The more you get used to spotting issues, the easier it will be to see them.
When in doubt, trust your gut. Step back. Ask a friend. Walk away. At no time are you ever required to work with a potential client and certainly not under questionable terms.
Writers, what are some of your most memorable red flags?
2 responses to “Client Red Flags Every Freelancer Needs to Know”
My favorite is a recurring theme that comes up on Upwork in particular, though not exclusively: It’s the line that tells you how much you “can” earn as one of their “top” freelancers.
There may be an hourly or per-piece rate attached to these claims.
“The rate for this work is $50/hour, which translates to a six-figure income for our top writers.” This starts out as really easy math, because $100,000÷$50=2000 hours. So you need to work 2000 hours a year to hit $100,000 at that rate. Let’s say you can reasonably expect to work 48 weeks a year, which allows two weeks for vacation and two weeks for holidays, sick days, and personal days. That means you have to have 41.66 income-producing hours every week for each of those 48 weeks to hit 2000 hours and $100,000. Not 41.66 work hours a week, but 41.66 income-producing hours per week, and then you pile admin, invoicing/billing, client contact, marketing, email, and so forth on top of that. It’s because of all that other stuff related to running a business that the customary calculation gives full-time freelancers 1400 working hours a year, and 1400 hours x $50/hour brings you to $70,000 a year. In other words, the “can earn” number assumes that you’re putting in a ton of overtime.
“We pay a flat rate of $25 for 350-word posts, which works out to a rate of $75/hour for our best freelancers.” The math here is even easier. They’re telling you that their “best freelancers” speed-dial through 1,050 words an hour, because you can’t turn a $25/post rate into a $75/hour rate unless you’re cranking out three of those puppies an hour. And hey, most of us can do that in a pinch, for a short term: 1,050 words in an hour isn’t beyond the realm of possibility if you already know the topic and have the information at hand. But can you sustain that over the course of a business day? Can you write 21 350-word posts during a single workday to pocket $525 for the day’s work? If you can’t, or if the client can’t provide that volume of work, then the $75/hour rate is meaningless in addition to being fantasy.
For the most part, when you see these fanciful claims, your best bet is to kick the “can” to the curb.
Excellent breakdown, my friend!
You COULD earn that much, but hey, who are we to tell you what that entails?
The more disturbing trend these days involves the “full-time freelancer needed” bullshit. This is a company that needs you present for 40 hours a week — their stated hours, not yours. And guess what? They’ll pay you employee wages. But no benefits. That, friends, is called illegal.