THWACK! And . . . we’re back.

This is Part 2 in a two-part post on client wrangling, Whac-A-Mole style. Read Part 1, right hurr.

Yesterday, we talked about setting crisp & mutually-agreeable timeframes with clients . . . speaking up, when you’re dragging your heels . . . and poking courteously, when they’re dragging theirs.

Today, we’re getting into Olympics-level Whac-A-Mole: how to make educated exceptions for Very Special Moles, when to hold ‘em, when to fold ‘em (and when to give ‘em a refund), and how to flee the arcade, altogether.

Make exceptions for Very Special Moles. But do so with DISCERNMENT.

I was recently approached by a Twitter comrade who needed a quickie round of tagline generation and some light webcopy editing — totaling about 3 or 4 hours of work. A pretty teensy gig. Not something I’d usually be ultra-keen to take on. But he’s a digital buddy, a respected industry rockstar, and a vibrantly cool cat — so I said “yeah, man!” And I’m glad I did, ’cause he’s a Very Special Mole.

Would I have say “yep” if I felt overextended, or exhausted? Nope. Would I have said “yep” to a similar micro-project, coming from a total stranger? Nope. Would I have said “yep” if it’d been an unpaid pro bono gig? Possibly, but pretty unlikely. But he asked real nice, with cash money at the ready, and it just felt right. Sometimes, it’s simply a love thang.

Know when to HOLD ‘em, & know when to FOLD ‘em.

I had a client who paid upfront for 10 hours of my time, and then . . . disappeared. We never began a single thing. And a month or so later, as I was reviewing my open project list, I realized we were long overdue for a check-in.

Turns out, her biz plans had shifted — she’d launched her brick ‘n mortar shop, her offline offerings were soaring, and she wasn’t feeling an urgent need for focused wordsmithing, at the mo’.

We toyed with the idea of waiting a bit longer, and then diving in . . . but resistance abounded (in both directions.)

The final solution? A full refund, from me to her. Buying back my time, in a sense, was more valuable to me than keeping a chunk of cash. She was elated. And I was officially off the hook. We parted ways, feeling light & loose.

If Whac-A-Mole is crushing your soul, PLAY A NEW GAME.

You’ve won the bout. You’ve earned the teddy bear. You’re tired. You’re sweaty. You smell vaguely of nachos. But before you load another quarter into the slot to fire up the ol’ game again, STOP. Put down the mallet. Step awaaaaay from the table. Go hang out under the pier for a while, eat a corndog, and ask yourself if you even enjoy Whac-A-Mole, in the first place. Maybe you’re more of a Skee-ball type? Or a Pinball Wizard? Or a Pac-Man lady? Or maybe arcades are bumming you out, big time, and where you really feel ebullient is on the beach, building sandcastles & helping baby sea turtles find their way to the sea . . .

Maybe there’s a way you could re-package your talents in another way? Say, compress a monthlong sequence of services into a luxurious one-day intensive — one that supercharges your client, de-clutters your calendar, and leaves both of you reeling with possibilities? No padded mallet required? Say, that could work.

So, how do you REALLY win the dreaded game of client Whac-A-Mole, at the end o’ the day?

It’s a trick question, of course: you simply refuse to play the game.

And whatever you do, don’t literally bash your clients over the head with a hammer. That would be . . . heinous. And very poor branding, y’know?

XO.