I have been working in the design business for 23 years. I started working long before computers were commonplace; my first job mainly consisted of specking type for a cable television magazine. I graduated to drawing picture box frames with a rapidograph, and in an effort to save money on type, I handset paragraphs of copy with Letraset. It wasn’t easy, but I got a secret thrill looking at the finished text and imagining it could pass for professional typesetting. In 1985 I started freelancing. In order to make my rent, I also worked as the receptionist for a nutritionist during the day and as a cashier at the Integral Yoga health food store at night and on the weekends. It took years to make a real living via design, and by the time I was able to start my own business, I had designed a furniture catalog, created political posters for Gloria Steinem and Bella Abzug, and made business cards for my colleagues at Integral Yoga. I loved the variety of jobs, and while scrappy, I felt pride in actually making a living as a designer. 23 years have passed since I first started in this business, and in the last year or so I had begun to believe that I had experienced every possible type of client and every possible kind of client/designer partnership. Maybe it was hubris, maybe it was experience, maybe it was naiveté, but nevertheless, this is how I was feeling. Until last Friday. Last Friday I did something I never, ever, in my wildest imagination, ever thought I would do. Last Friday I yelled at a client.
Some background: We have been working with said client for nearly three years designing an entire portfolio of products. Initially our proposal included designing one master brand identity for the portfolio of 300+ products over the course of 9 months. But after conducting pre-design research, we determined that the brand would be better served by creating three separate line looks, each reflecting the different consumer need states of the company’s products. At the time, we realized that this scope change justified a reconfiguration of the proposal. One might even argue that three different line looks instead of one would mean three times the fees. But in the spirit of our partnership and the tight timing of the assignment, we decided to keep the fee structure as is. This was our first mistake.
Our expectation of the assignment and the activities outlined in our original proposal required working on numerous products at once. In other words, we expected to design the look of each brand and all the flavors and line extensions simultaneously. This was not unlike many other projects we have undertaken in the past, and we felt confident that this was the best and most logical approach. Though the client agreed, getting them to give us copy and all approvals for an entire line at once proved challenging and we often ended up designing one flavor at a time. Allowing this to happen was our second mistake.
We continued in this manner for several months, all the while hoping the process would somehow improve. It didn’t. In fact, it got to a point wherein we realized that if something didn’t change quickly, we would actually end up paying to do this project ourselves. We approached our client and asked that a line item allocated for a brand manual be remanded to the design stages and she reluctantly agreed. She wasn’t convinced that the scope had indeed changed, and though we were happy that she agreed with the reallocation of the fee, this concerned us. But we didn’t want to belabor the discussions about money any longer than was absolutely necessary and so we put the niggling worries behind us. This was our third mistake.
Cut to two years later. The first phase of the redesign has undergone a rigorous quantitative test, and the facilitators told us that the results were some of the best they have ever seen in their thirty years conducting market research. The client chose the design we recommended and we are thrilled with the way the brand is being visually redefined. However, the assignment has moved slower than what was reflected in our proposal and we are less than a third of the way through. As you can imagine, we have depleted the original budget, and are now effectively paying to do the job ourselves. Via our time sheets, we have calculated that we have lost about $250,000 in time alone. I had to do something to remedy this.
Three weeks ago I went to visit our client with the account and production teams to ask for more money to complete the job. Our rationale was that 1) the project scope had changed significantly via the re-segmentation of the corporate portfolio, 2) the job was moving much slower than was allocated in the 2004 proposal and 3) they were so far behind the agreed upon timeline of 9 months. We had a respectful and cordial meeting; our client told us that she would look into the budget and would do what she could. We then went over other project logistics, were told we were doing good job, we hugged goodbye and went home.
This past Friday we met again, this time in my office; presumably to go over a new budget. The account team joined us for a friendly lunch; afterward I was scheduled to meet with her privately to go over the financials.
As soon as we were alone, she pulled out our 2004 proposal. She looked me in the eye and told me that her company had no additional money to spend on the project. She then said that she had spoken to her legal team and they told her that we were obligated to finish the job for the original fee. Before I could get a word in edgewise, she proceeded to tell me that she thought it was curious that I was bringing this up now, when the project wasn’t going that well. I was stunned and asked for details about what was wrong. She went into issues I was unfamiliar with, and I asked if I could bring in the rest of my team, as they could better address the problems she had introduced.
When the team came back into the room, she once again reiterated her displeasure at our recent performance. The group was baffled. They tried to defend their actions and pointed out how and why they did what they did. My production director, (an over-achiever with an impeccable work ethic) addressed our client’s issues one by one. She reminded me of Marisa Tomei in the movie My Cousin Vinny, when she was in court and on the stand. She was logical, clear, and in my estimation, irrefutable. But the client wouldn’t accept what she was saying and as she listened, she became more and more agitated. As the team tried to explain our decision making process, she became outright angry. And then she started screaming at us. As I looked around at my staff, I saw a variety of reactions: shock, fear, bewilderment, and one young woman near tears. Before I knew it, without any pre-meditation, without any consciousness of what I was about to do, I did something I never did before: I yelled back at my client. I did it in a way I am now ashamed of, as I got all “street girl” on her. I told her under no circumstances could she talk to us that way. I told her that I found her tone disrespectful and offensive. It was primal, really, what I said and how I said it. I did not plan to do this and if I had to do it over, I would do it differently.
After I yelled, our client backed down a bit. She still felt that the scope of the job hadn’t changed but she was willing to review our position provided we could outline the changes on paper. I agreed to do this and shortly thereafter, she departed.
Following the meeting, I had a “debrief” with my team. They were elated. They felt that I had stood up for them and they were proud and grateful. I told them I was glad they felt vindicated, but I also said that I wished I hadn’t lost my temper. They didn’t care, they felt protected and understood.
Three days later, I am still feeling a combination of sadness, shame and shock. I am glad that my team felt I defended them. But I am also disappointed in myself. As I mentally review the many alternatives in responding to anger with anger, I know in my heart that there had to be a better way to handle this situation. As I relived the experience, I remembered something I learned in school about negotiation: the best negotiation between two parties is when each believes they have left the table winning something and losing something. I don’t think we accomplished this. But I was also reminded of a passage from the Charles Olsen poem ‘Maximus, To Himself.’ I think it best describes my sentiment:
I know the quarters
of the weather, where it comes from,
where it goes. But the stem of me,
this I took from their welcome,
or their rejection, of me
And my arrogance
was neither diminished
nor increased
by the communication.
It is undone business
I speak of, this morning,
with the sea
stretching out
from my feet.
Design is a curious business. If we are lucky, we never stop learning our craft.
But this situation has taught me something more: the longer we persevere—as wonderful and as painful as it may be—the bigger the opportunities we are given to learn about ourselves.
Debbie,
Thank you, this is a great experience to share with all of us.
I am certain that this has happened to us at one point or another and if not, it will. It's never a moment to be proud of but sometimes it's necessary. You may feel regretful, ashamed, embarassed, whatever that emotion is but at that time when it happened it was the appropriate response to the situation.
I guess what we all can do is learn from these kinds of situations and remind ourselves never to do it again. Being calm in a tornado is impossible, and these "discussions" can become disasters and the only response is the one that you experienced.
I listen to you on Design Matters on Friday and could never envision you yelling back at someone unless it was justified.
On Mar.27.2006 at 01:55 PM