Recently a family member asked for help with a design project. I agreed, but it brought back to mind the last time I worked for family. I’ll share it.
A few years ago my uncle was running for Senator of an East Coast state. My aunt, nephew, grandmother, and a few other uncles were helping with the campaign. My aunt, whom I respect a great deal, asked for my help. She hired me to produce the candidate’s platform brochure and help build his brand identity. Four of my family members were working in the candidate’s campaign office. My family believed in my uncle, but didn’t believe in his staff’s ability to present a professional image for the candidate on paper.
The candidate came from a long career in non-profit organizations, one large one in particular. Most of his election staff were from the non-profit world as well. If you’ve never dealt with non-profit organizations as a vendor or contractor, you probably have no idea how different they are operationally than for-profit corporations. Out of fiscal necessity, they work with old software and computers, and, more importantly, the people of a non-profit try to wear as many different hats as is humanly possible. The CEO’s assistant likely answers the organization’s phones, sets appointments, takes notation, fixes the copier when it breaks, interviews candidates, and keeps five-year-old copies of Microsoft Publisher and Microsoft FrontPage on her Windows 95 machine to create the organization’s print and web layout needs.
Work for the Senator-hopeful began as it usually does: His staff sent me copy (text) for the brochure along with their working logo and their thoughts on the layout. The last was fairly slim, leaving most of it up to me. All the better.
I did my market research, learned about the candidate and his potential constituency, his opponents, their platforms, and so on. Now, armed with a thorough understanding of the candidate and his market, armed with their original copy, I laid out a design for the brochure.
I sent these off to the client in Acrobat 3‑compatible PDF format. Non-profits are always behind the times in terms of computer software and hardware. Many are still on Acrobat 2 (circa 1995). The very first thing the client (some staffer) said when I answered the phone was a complaint about sending a proof in PDF.
I asked: “Do you have Acrobat Reader version 3 or later? Version 5, released in 2000, is the latest.”
Staffer: “We have version 4 point something. But we need the brochure in Word format so we can make changes.”
Me: “Ah. I understand. I didn’t create the brochure in Microsoft Word. Word doesn’t have the tools necessary to create a professional brochure of the caliber the candidate needs. Instead I used a professional program specifically designed for creating brochures; its a program called Quark.
“If there are any changes necessary, please write them directly on a print-out of the brochure. Then fax it back to me. For me to make changes I’ll need a signature anyway–”
Staffer: “We need the Word doc faxed to us.”
Me: “[Staffer], I understand your request, but… Let me try to explain. The original content you sent me was in Word format. The brochure, however, is not. It can’t be opened by Word. There isn’t a way to convert it to Word.”
Staffer, deadpan: “So you’re refusing to fax it to us in Word?”
Me: “No, no, no. Not all. I’m not refusing anything. What I’m saying is that if I e‑mailed it to you, you would not be able to open it Word. Word doesn’t work for making brochures. It’s a hammer, and this is a screwdriver job. It won’t work.”
Staffer: “Look, the candidate needs you to fax the Word file right away so we can make changes and fax the file back to you so it can be printed.”
Me, giving up on the language barrier issue: “I understand the urgency. Of course. Give me ten minutes and I’ll fax it to you.”
Inside of ten minutes I had printed the Quark file directly to my computer-connected fax machine. The staffer received a black and white hardcopy of exactly what he had had on screen. Then he called me back.
Staffer: “If you’re not going to help us–”
Me: “I don’t understand. I faxed you the brochure as requested.”
Staffer: “We need you to fax us the brochure so we can edit it in Microsoft Word.”
After blinking a few times I responded mildly and patiently: “I understand now. I’ll e‑mail the Word doc with the original text you had sent. Make your changes in that, send it back to me, and I’ll place it into the brochure layout.” I decided to give up on the signature I usually require for clients to make changes; the e‑mail dialogue will be sufficient if there’s ever a question of who authorized the changes. “If there are any layout or graphical changes you need, please write those down in your e‑mail or you can just tell me over the phone now. I have the brochure in front of me. اسرار لعبة الدومينو الامريكانى ”
Staffer: “E‑mail won’t work. We need you to fax the Word document so we can make changes to it inside Word. حصان سباق ”
I blinked a few more times, struggling to find a way to explain to this over-worked, computer-illiterate person the contradiction and physically impossible request he was making. “[Staffer], a fax is a physical copy that can’t be opened by Microsoft Word. By contrast, an e‑mail copy can be opened by Word since they’re both electronic files. If you’ll just give me your e‑mail address, I’ll have the Word doc in your hands inside–”
Staffer, irritated and speaking as if to a petulant child: “Why are you being so difficult about this? I told you e‑mail won’t work. Let me spell it out real simple for you: You need to fax the Word document to me so I can make changes in Word. If you can’t do the job… How did you get this job to begin with? We should have hired someone who had some previous experience with this kind of work, someone who went to arts school. Obviously you don’t know the first thing about graphics or computers–”
Ok. I’ll admit it. I was getting pissed. Honest to whatever, I tried like hell to remember this person was simply computer illiterate, and that, as the vendor, it was up to me to bridge the ignorance to progress the project. Still, he questioned my professionalism. That pisses me off.
Me: “Do you know the campaign manager, [my aunt]?”
Staffer: “Of course I know her.”
Me: “She hired me. Before this conversation goes any further, I strongly suggest that we bring her into it. She’ll explain why what you’re asking for is not physically possible. It’s like you asking me to fax you an orange to eat.”
Staffer: “[Campaign manager] is too busy. I’m not going to bring her into a simple matter of you refusing to do what you were hired to do. سباقات الخيل السعودية Are you, or are you not, going to fax me that Word doc? Yes or no?”
When I tried to answer with a word that didn’t begin with a “y” or “n”, I was immediately cut off with a curt “just answer ‘yes’ or ‘no’.” I was getting pretty steamed, too. Of course I didn’t let this come through in my voice. I am, after all, a professional.
Me: “No. I really want to fax you the Word document, but I can’t fax you an orange to eat.”
Staffer: “What are you talking about? I want you to fax a Word document so I can edit it in Word. I don’t want a fucking orange!”
Me: “They are the same thing. It is equally physically impossible to fax you an orange as it is to fax a document that can be edited, without retyping or scanning, in Microsoft Word.”
Staffer: “So you refuse to fax it?”
Me: “[Staffer], we’re at an impasse. I’m going to call [the candidate’s] cell phone and talk with him about this. He and I will sort it out and–”
Staffer, angry: “How do you have [the candidate’s] cell phone number?”
I ignored the question and finished my statement: “–And then he’ll explain to you how we’ll be able to get files back and forth until the brochure is completed. In the meantime, please mark your changes on the copy I faxed you.” He started to speak again, but I politely ended the conversation and hung up.
Ten minutes later I was talking to the campaign manager, my aunt. I relayed the exchange to her, identifying the staffer and the flaw in his logic. She, knowing that I knew what I was talking about–I was the Creative Director for a well-known design agency, and I had more than ten years professional experience in design–told me to proceed with the other jobs in the contract (logo, brand identity, etc.). I would hear back from the campaign shortly with a way to deal with changes to the brochure.
Two hours later the candidate, my uncle, called. As usual, he was condescending and treated me like a five-year-old. He refused to let me speak about the impossibility of what his staffer wanted. He turned it around on me as my alleged ignorance of how non-profits and political campaigns run. He asked me to “work with” him and “put in the extra effort to make this work.” If I “made it work,” he said, someday I might be able to build a career in graphic design.
“John,” I said in an intentionally condescending tone. “I have a career in graphic design. I manage a staff of twenty-six graphic designers, as a matter of fact. I report directly to the CEO of the company. What’s more, I manage major accounts for the company, including Playboy Enterprises, performing much of the creative design on that account myself. While I don’t make as much per year as you, I make roughly four times what [staffer] makes. I’m [xx] years old.
“I’m also used to dealing with clients who have some understanding of the basic differences between a piece of paper and a floppy disk, something your staffer doesn’t. My aunt, your sister, asked me to help you out on this because she said, and I quote: ‘John needs a pro’s help. What he has is fucking pitiful.’ If you’re happy with fucking pitiful, John, then stick with it. See how far it gets you in the race to the Senate.”
He began to say something else about how everyone tries hard and he needs me to stop being so difficult and just do what his staff needs. I stopped him. “I think we’re at an impasse here, John. You will forever resent me and see me as the seven-year-old boy who’s I.Q. beat your son’s by thirty points. You’re so hung up on being superior that you’re shooting yourself in the foot. I’m a professional accustomed to dealing with professionals. You and your staff still have a long way to go to reach that point. Therefore I’m discharging your account. I’ll have–”
John: “You’re ‘discharging’ my–?”
Me: “I’m firing you, John. I don’t want to do business with you or the people you choose to hire. I’ll have the files your staff originally sent returned via e‑mail. Then our dealings will be concluded. This is the second time I’ve had to fire you as my client. There won’t be any further instances of that. In the future, when you try to take the cheap road and exploit family for your creative needs, please look to someone other than me.
“I wish you luck in the race for Senator, John.” I have to admit, I was very tempted to add: “Were I a constituent, knowing now how you run your businesses, I wouldn’t vote for you.” I didn’t. Though I believed wholly in that statement as it formed in my mind, I bit my tongue. I wasn’t going to stoop to personal attacks upon my uncle while discharging my client. Instead I simply said, “take care,” and hung up.
I called my aunt, explained to her that I had just fired John. She was disappointed, but she understood. She believed John would make a good Senator, but she knew how arrogant he was.
The brochure was never produced. In the state’s leading newspaper my uncle’s brand identity was characterized as “evident of his involvement in non-profit” organizations.
Incidentally, my uncle was out of the race for Senator before the voting began. The papers and the people liked him, but he wasn’t well-rounded and polished enough to be a serious candidate. With some more experience, they said, he might be able to do the job.
When the election was over he moved back to D.C. to continue his leadership of the non-profit organization he had founded ten years before.
I tend to agree.
I was asked by family to design/make over a night c;ub persona.
to keep it short.… all hell broke loose and of course, the designer was blamed for all things out of his control. I was contracted to to design layout, and color schematics, uniform and tourist wear… all from across the country. The participants in the local area were supposed to negotiate the contrators work. For some reason that ball wound up in my court. I did my best to explain to all involved, that I could not meet with construction and designers from 1800 miles away.
Needless to say, from the family members involved, everything fell apart, and I too, ended up firing them as clients.
Live and learn.
Oh.My.God. Just reading this, I want to fax myself right through the wires, reconstitute, and beat the living hell out of that ass and others like him. And people think graphic design must just be “so much fun.” Heeee!
Fine story.
=^..^=
Awesome article!
:)
Eyup.