There’s a business story I need to tell you. Not because I’m bitter (okay, maybe a little), but because the lessons I learned are too valuable not to share. This is about red flags, self-respect, and what happens when you ignore both.
Act One: The Interrogation
Picture this: I’m early in my business journey, still figuring out pricing and service structures, nervous but excited about a referral. I join a Zoom call expecting a conversation. Instead, I walk into what can only be described as an interrogation panel – five other people firing questions at me about everything from my marketing knowledge to my processes.
Some questions were outside my scope of work. Some I couldn’t comfortably answer without a signed contract. And some? Some were just insulting.
When someone questions the quality of your graduate thesis (which, for the record, earned a perfect score), or repeatedly asks “but what about the copy?” after you’ve clearly explained your copywriting role, they’re not confused. They’re not listening to you.
I left those calls exhausted, unheard, and disrespected. But here’s the kicker: I still sent a proposal. A generous one, actually—$500/month for comprehensive social media management, strategy, office hours, the works.
Then? Radio silence. Three weeks later, a single text: “We haven’t forgotten about you.”
Spoiler alert: They had.
The “Free” Alternative
Eventually, I learned through my colleague that the business owner had connected with a professor who offered to have students manage their social media for class credit. Free labor. No investment required.
Now, I’m all for educational opportunities, but let’s be real about what this means for a business: no investment in your brand, no consistency, no accountability. You’re getting different people at different skill levels managing different parts of your marketing strategy, treating your business as a semester-long project rather than… well, a business.
But that wasn’t my problem to solve. They didn’t value what I offered, so I moved on.
Act Two: The Sequel Nobody Asked For
Fast forward a year. I now have a team, established systems, and—most importantly—self-respect and clear boundaries.
My colleague reaches out again. The business isn’t happy with their social media presence. Shocking, right?
We meet again. Their LinkedIn and Instagram? Exactly what you’d expect from inconsistent management by rotating groups of students. Lacking strategy, limited branding, sporadic posting.
This meeting is different—just the owner and my colleague. We talk for an hour. I speak for maybe ten minutes of it. Once again, I walk away unclear about what they actually want, especially since now they’re talking about me working with the student team.
I finally make it clear: I have a process. I manage what I manage. I work with professionals. If you want social media management, I’ll manage it. If you need graphics, I’ll coordinate with my designer. Clean, professional, accountable.
Then comes the price question. My rates have increased significantly—because I have systems, a team, and proven results. He’s understandably a bit shocked, but doesn’t elaborate and says he will follow up.
The Negotiation Nightmare
After not hearing from him, I follow up with a professional email: here’s my pricing for an audit, strategy, and monthly management. Give me access to your accounts and I can start posting in January.
He responds saying the students already completed an audit and strategy. Perfect! I tell him to send it over and I’ll use their findings to build the content calendar. Then he asks for a phone call.
I’m on vacation, but I offer to call at 8:30 AM the next morning. He agrees. The next morning, I’m up early on my vacation to take his call, and he spends twenty minutes telling me he knows I’m worth my price but it’s “a bit high.” I explain my pricing structure and what goes into it, then eventually offer a compromise—about $300 less than my original quote, with the caveat that we’d need to renegotiate in six months. He agrees.
I ask for follow-up details in writing to confirm we’re on the same page. That’s when I receive one of the most unprofessional emails of my career.
Typos everywhere. One specific word is consistently misspelled throughout in the most unintentionally insulting way (think “thought” but… not). The content was even worse than the typos: he admitted he couldn’t afford me but wanted me to do more work for less money.
He suggested I work on commission based on product sales, which fundamentally misunderstands how social media ROI works. Social media builds brand awareness, engagement, and community; you can’t directly attribute sales to a post in a way that makes commission feasible or fair.
He told me to “request a meeting” with him and other stakeholders, which felt condescending considering he had been the one pursuing me. And the cherry on top? He spelled my name wrong.
Through all of this back-and-forth, at no point would he tell me his actual budget.
The Final Attempt (Or: Why Didn’t I Walk Away?)
You’d think I’d have ignored this email, right? Reader, I did not.
Instead, I decoded his vague requests and crafted a professional response. I even offered a more hands-off package—$250 less than my already-reduced rate. He’d get monthly content calendars and analytics, but without the accountability and project management that ensures everything gets done.
I sent my calendar link for him to book a meeting.
His response? Nothing. Over a week of silence.
The Lesson
Here’s what I learned, and what I want you to hear: When someone shows you who they are, believe them.
I walked into this situation wanting to work with my colleague on an exciting project. Instead, these people:
- Interrogated and insulted me
- Chose a free option over valuing professional services
- Returned when the free option didn’t deliver agency-quality results
- Continued to disrespect my intelligence, my business, and my pricing
And yet I kept coming back, kept negotiating, kept trying to make it work.
Why did they return? Because they thought I was easily manipulated. They admitted they undervalue my colleague. They’ve been in business long enough to know better, but they still won’t pay their team what they’re worth.
I’m not in a position where I can afford to work with people like that. And that’s okay.
Know Your Worth
If someone is waving red flags at you, don’t just notice them—listen to what they’re telling you.
You don’t need every client. You need the right clients—the ones who value your expertise, respect your boundaries, and understand that quality work costs money.
There will always be someone out there willing to work for less, to compromise their boundaries, to accept disrespect. Let those clients find each other.
As for me? I’ll be over here working with people who know the difference between cost and value. And I’ll be spelling people’s names correctly while I do it.