The Note
A few years ago I hired someone for a project that mattered to me. Good reputation, work I admired, a price that made me pause before I said yes.
I signed on a Thursday. Then nothing, for eleven days.
Nothing bad happened. She wasn't ignoring me, she was busy, and the work she eventually delivered was genuinely excellent.
But here's what those eleven days were like on my end. I checked my email a lot. I reread the contract to see if I'd missed something about timing. I mentioned it to my husband twice, in a very casual voice. By day eight I was building a small private case about whether I'd made a mistake. By day ten I was drafting a message in my head that I'm glad I never sent.
She never knew any of that. She never did anything wrong. She left a gap, and I filled it with the worst available story, because that's what people do with gaps.
The work was excellent. I have never referred her to anyone.
That's the cost, and it doesn't show up anywhere you'd look for it.
I've been thinking about this because of how we talk about difficult clients. We treat difficulty as a personality trait they arrived with. Some women are just high-maintenance. Some are anxious. Some don't respect boundaries.
Sometimes, sure. Those people exist.
But most of the time, what you're looking at is a reasonable woman who was handed no structure and is doing the only sensible thing available to her, which is managing her own uncertainty by generating contact.
She's not needy. She's under-informed, and she's compensating.
Here's what's actually happening on her side in week one. She just spent money, possibly money she had to think hard about. There was a moment of commitment and right behind it, always, a small wave of doubt. That's not a flaw in her. That's what buying something significant feels like.
Now she's watching to find out whether she was right.
And she isn't evaluating your work, because you haven't done any yet. She's evaluating everything else. How fast you replied. Whether the thing you said you'd send showed up. Whether this feels like a process or like two people improvising politely at each other.
When week one is clear, and things arrive when you said they would, something settles in her. She stops auditing. She shows up better, communicates openly, and gets out of your way.
When week one is vague, she fills the silence. And a client filling silence behaves in an extremely specific way. She emails more. She asks questions you've already answered. She needs reassurance you don't have time to give. She checks in about timelines that were never in question.
You've had this client. You may have thought she was a lot.
Which means a meaningful share of what you experience as difficult clients is something you could engineer away in an afternoon. Not by being firmer. By answering the questions before she has to ask them.
Steal this
The welcome email. Send it within 24 hours of payment, every time, no exceptions.
Hi [name],
Thrilled to be working together. Here's exactly what happens next so nothing is a mystery.
Today: this email, plus [the intake form / the shared folder / your invoice receipt].
By [day]: I'll send [the first deliverable or the kickoff call link].
Our kickoff is [date and time]. Here's what I'll ask you, so you can think about it beforehand: [two or three questions].
Best way to reach me is [channel]. I answer within [timeframe] on weekdays.
If anything's unclear, say so. I'd rather answer it now.
Four minutes to fill in. Every future client gets it. That's the entire fix for a category of problem you've been treating as a personality clash.
Your move
Think of the last client you found difficult. Now ask yourself what she actually did.
If the honest answer is that she emailed a lot, asked things you'd already covered, or wanted reassurance about timing, she wasn't difficult. She was in the dark, and she was doing something about it.
Write the welcome email this week.
- Shelley
Responses