I designed a new website for a client. Their old site had no analytics installed, but they told me they were getting “really healthy traffic”, so they wanted minimal downtime. I didn’t ask how they knew this.

When I finished their new site, there were a few options for analytics. I was going to use Google, but they wondered whether Amazon’s premium Alexa service might be a better option. When I asked why, a few things started to become clear.

Client: “Well, I’m looking at Alexa’s website right now, and they say our site has had more than twenty-six million visitors. See?”

The Alexa page said: “No data available for this site. We do not have enough data to estimate these metrics. Global rank: 26,643,839.”

Client: “Pretty cool to think over twenty-six million people have visited our site!”

I haven’t had the nerve to tell them what “rank” means, but I have a bad feeling they’ll be disappointed when I install Google Analytics and they see what their actual traffic is like.

I present a diagram I have designed for my client.

Client: “This looks a bit design-heavy.”

My Mind: “Is that a problem… or a compliment?”

Related:
What Does That Even MEAN?!

I do a lot of contract photography for a university. Despite their desperate need for new stock-type photos of current students, they only ever send me to painfully boring alumni events where I take shots of old people standing around eating in poorly lit rooms. It’s also worth noting that they don’t use anyone else for photography besides me.

Client: “Our new magazine is going to print-check in a week, so send me your best action shots of our students. We’re looking for dramatic angles of ethnically diverse groups who are dressed professionally and have confident expressions.”

Me: “Why would you think that I have anything like that just lying around?”

Client: “Oh, and our alumni event is tomorrow, too! Some of our oldest donors will be there. Maybe you’ll get some useful photos there!”

I design book covers. I was just starting out when a client contacted me to do a bundle of five covers. Needless to say, I jumped on it.

Well, I shouldn’t have. The first red flag came when they negotiated my fare down to only 10% of what I would have originally charged. I should have declined them then and there, but I was new at this and needed the money.

Red flag number two?

Me: “So, what are the titles of the books?”

Client: “I haven’t picked yet. But start putting something together in the meantime.”

Red flag number three:

Me: “What are the plots?”

The client listed five generic plots that sounded like recaps of recent rom-coms.

These covers were for romance novels. The client had a few ideas for the layout they wanted — bulky, messy ideas — and I couldn’t talk them out of them. The big idea was that even though these were romance novels, they shouldn’t feature people. Just… “schemes.”

No, I don’t know what that means, either.

After seven revisions:

Me: “How does this cover look to you?”

Client: “The plot of my book is about schemes. You need to put more schemes on the cover.”

Me: “But no people?”

Client: “No people. Absolutely not.”

Me: “What kind of schemes are in the book?”

Client: “Perfume.”

Me: “…Perfume is a scheme?”

Client: “Of course!”

I put a perfume bottle on the cover.

Client: “What are you doing? I said more schemes! How dim are you?”

Finally, I broke off the relationship. I told them that, clearly, I wasn’t doing the job they wanted, and I wasn’t interested in continuing to do the work.

Two months later:

Client: “So, what — you’re not going to do this design for me anymore?”

If that’s their idea of “trying to get someone back,” I doubt their romance novels are going to be any good.

I am a wedding photographer. At the time of this story, I was relatively new to the industry, and I would get bookings based on the quality of my portfolio but not the quantity. Therefore, I would accept half my fee as a deposit, and I would ask for the other half when I was ready to send over the final photos.

Me: “Hi, [Client]! I’m happy to say that I’ve finished touching up your photos, and they’re ready for you whenever you are!”

Client: “Oh, wow, that was fast! Please send me the link!”

Me: “I would be happy to. I just need to settle the other half of my fee, first.”

Client: “Oh, yes, I’ll get that over to you soon.”

Since I was early, I didn’t think much of it. However, a few days past the original delivery date:

Client: “You promised me the photos were ready early! But I still don’t have them!”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry if there was a miscommunication. Yes, the photos have been ready for almost a week! I just need to settle the bill, and I can send them straight away!”

Client: “I can pay you at the end of the month.”

Me: “That’s fine.”

Annoying, but fine. The next day:

Client: “I still haven’t got the photos!”

Me: “Yes, because you said you would pay at the end of the month.”

Client: “You mean you won’t send them until I’ve sent you the money?!”

Me: “That’s usually how it works, yes.”

The client hung up on me. At the end of the month, I sent them a reminder email, and I sent another one the week after that. No response. I figured maybe they were going through some post-wedding budgeting issues, and they would get back to me when they could. I had plenty of other projects to keep me occupied anyway.

Three whole months later, I received a very angry call from an older woman. I recognize her as the mother of the bride.

Mother Of The Bride: “You absolute monster! You’re holding my daughter’s wedding photos ransom so you can get more money from her?! You send over every photo right this instant, or I am taking you to court!”

Me: “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. Your daughter hasn’t paid me yet, which is why I haven’t sent the photos. I’m not holding any photos ransom!”

Mother Of The Bride: “That’s a lie! I paid you [amount] myself months before the wedding!”

Me: “That was a deposit, ma’am — 50%. I am owed the other 50% before I can send the photos.”

Mother Of The Bride: “You’re just making things up to get more money!”

Me: “If you check the contract that your daughter signed, you’ll see it’s quite clearly written there that my services are [full amount], with half paid before and the rest upon delivery.”

Mother Of The Bride: “Well… even if that’s true, that’s a ridiculous amount of money to charge for a few photos!”

Me: “I actually come in cheaper than the competition, ma’am.”

She hung up, and I didn’t hear back again so I assumed she had checked the contract and discovered I was right, and she was now figuring out what to do.

Amazingly, another three months went by, and I received yet another call, this time from the bride again.

Client: “How dare you?! You’re stealing my photos!”

Me: “Are we really going to go through this again?”

Client: “I can see my photos on your website! You have no right to use them! Take them down now!”

Me: “Oh, you mean my online portfolio. Yes, well, since you didn’t pay for them, I own them until you do. The pictures at your wedding came out so lovely that I had to use them on my site. They’ve helped me drum up quite a bit of business!”

For clarity, none of the pictures showed the faces of the client or her guests. I’d put up some candids of shoes, the cake, her dress, and a few other non-identifying features.

Client: “You’re profiting off of my photos!”

Me: “Yes, just like I was originally supposed to!”

A year after the wedding, the groom finally paid. He had no idea what was happening, but when he asked where the wedding photos were, he heard the long, drawn-out story. He was incredibly apologetic on the phone.