Member-only story
Dear Client: It’s not you, it’s me.
It was a dark and stormy night. There’s an eerie silence. And then, the phone rings. Its vibrations startle me into attention; I sit up with wonder, eyes scanning the room. Every ring seems to get louder, each reverberation accompanied by a seeming lightning bolt of terror flashing from the screen. With my heart beating faster, I tip-toe over to take a peek — who could it be? As I get closer, horror sets in. I see familiar characters of a name come into focus. It’s a name I recognize all too well. At this unspeakable hour, would it be, could it be — should it be — MY CLIENT?! (insert shriek here).
This is the level of terror I seemed to feel each time I would get an unwarranted call, text, or email outside of what I would deem respectable business hours. My heart fluttered or my eyes would roll as I faced the anxiety of opening an aggressively-titled email. I can’t believe that she would actually have the nerve to ask me for another favor! I needed to take a long, deep breath right before the start of dreaded meetings and phone calls (scheduled or impromptu). Every other encounter with these particular clients would quickly convert into a complaint or vent session with my friends, partner, or colleagues.
I kept having the same egregious experiences over and over again: overstepped boundaries, scope creep, six or seven revisions instead of the three we…
