The First Big Project Disaster
The first big project we managed to sell was a failure. By “big,” I mean a project that would allow our small software development company of just five members to survive for six months.
When the proposal was accepted, we all sighed with relief. Until then, we thought we’d be on a tight budget for quite a while.
The client’s app wasn’t exactly groundbreaking, it was essentially an Instagram “copy” with a marketplace. Still, we approached it as if we were working for NASA.
Demanding and Aggressive
Over time, the client became increasingly demanding and even aggressive. He sent us spreadsheets filled with requests that far exceeded the agreed-upon scope. The image in my mind is Twoey (Audrey II), the carnivorous plant from Little Shop of Horrors, an invasive being draining our time, energy, and enjoyment from work.
Gaslighting and Betrayal
This online psychopath (as I now view him) was a master of gaslighting. He would request changes and later claim he’d never asked for them. Calmly yet cuttingly, he’d criticize ideas he himself had initially suggested. He’d approve something, we’d progress, and then he’d bluntly declare, “I don’t like it. That’s a terrible idea.” Payments depended on his approval of each line on his endless spreadsheet, so out of fear and anxiety over payment, we bent to his demands and criticisms.
Then the day came when he copied the code, changed the passwords, and vanished. Along with the code went the money—and our self-esteem. We felt foolish and used. We realized the ploy he’d planned: we were a small, eager company, desperate to grow and pay salaries. We were vulnerable. This probably wasn’t his first time pulling this stunt, but for us, it was devastating.
Another Year, Another Toxic Client
Time passed, luck shifted, and new clients arrived, allowing us to right the ship. Twoey’s shadow seemed behind us.
The following year, a couple approached us requesting several websites. Their social media profiles should have served as a warning: their T-shirts read “Bad Man” and “Nasty Woman.”
Predictable Outcome
Unsurprisingly, this story has a bad ending.
Based on our previous experience, this time we carefully tracked hours, defined the scope clearly, and measured our efforts. Everything seemed to come together. Although they were peculiar—elderly clients who struggled to grasp technology—they at least paid on time.
Until the signs on the T-shirts proved true.
The Breaking Point
The avalanche of whimsical emails every morning was bad enough, but insulting one of our staff members was the straw that broke the camel’s back. That very day, we revoked their permission to contact the team directly and informed them that from then on, communication would go through a company owner.
It was a declaration of war, though we didn’t realize it immediately. To make a long story short, they behaved as if nothing had happened, approved the projects for production, and as soon as they had the finished product, requested a cashback on their credit card.
We were angry. Very angry. This time we didn’t feel foolish because we’d learned to set boundaries. But at the end of the day, we were cheated and still had salaries to pay.
Volcanic Lessons Learned
When Bad Man and Nasty Woman ripped us off, it triggered a sort of volcanic eruption: smoke, tremors, lava balls flying, and magma flowing down the hillside.
Fertile Ashes and Tomatoes
Maybe you already know the story behind San Marzano tomatoes, but here it is anyway: near Mount Vesuvius in Italy grows a variety of tomatoes famed for being the tastiest in the world—even when canned. Known for their sweetness, mineral-rich flavor, deep red color, and graceful shape, they grow on volcanic slopes nourished by fertile ash.
They say volcanic ash enriches soil like no other fertilizer. So it was for us. Just like near Vesuvius, after a while, lush San Marzano tomatoes began appearing—volcano-flavored tomatoes.
Psychological Discoveries
🍅 Our first tomato was a psychological discovery: customers are less likely to complain about an invoice if the sender is an accountant. We confirmed that when the person handling daily client interactions is also responsible for payments, clients become more confrontational. Even founders fare worse at this!
When Jessica, our accountant, started sending invoices, many issues simply vanished. Clients treated her respectfully, informed her promptly about payments, and rarely questioned invoices.
Avoiding Draining Tasks
🍅 The second tomato was self-awareness: we hate creating logos. It’s draining and entirely frustrating—like naming someone else’s baby! Now, when clients ask for logos, we offer three ideas for free. When subjective taste is involved, it’s better to limit options. And that’s it—we’re not logo designers.
Choosing Clients Wisely
🍅 Our reddest, most delicious tomato was changing our relationship with clients. We realized that desperation, just like blood in the water, attracts hungry sharks.
Accepting every project, tweaking budgets to win bids, working unhealthy hours, and fulfilling every demand to survive were shark magnets. With predators constantly circling, making room for good clients was difficult.
Simply put, toxic clients drain your time and energy. Even if you manage to survive short-term, they prevent growth—an immense cost for a small business.
So now, we choose our clients. 🍅
Graceful Declines
Thanks to these painful, carnivorous, volcanic incidents, we learned to spot potential troublemakers. Gracefully, we now decline by saying, “Looking at our schedule…we can take your project in about three months.” This sends them back into the sea, searching for prey less experienced than us.
Photo by Museums Victoria on Unsplash