A couple of years ago, I was an art director at a local creative agency; branding, digital campaigns, websites, the usual. One of our bigger accounts was a well-known travel site (let’s call them Big Travel Co.), and my point of contact was their country marketing manager.

One afternoon, my phone lights up.

Client: “I looked at the mock-ups, and the colors are all wrong. Especially our core brand color, the [main brand color] is completely off!”

Me: “Got it. Could you send me the mock-up you’re looking at so I can check?”

I’d built that mock-up myself. I was certain I pulled the exact RGB/hex values straight from their brand guidelines. Still, I open the file, sample the swatches, compare against the guidelines, and even cross-check their website and recent campaigns. Perfect match.

I call her back.

Me: “I double-checked. These are precisely your brand colors; same values as the guidelines, same as your site.”

Client: “No, they’re wrong. I’m looking at them right now. They look… off. Like, washed out.”

Washed out? A terrible suspicion starts to form.

Me: “Could you check your monitor settings?”

Client: “I don’t know how to do that.”

We spiral into a long, circular debate about color, where I (patiently) troubleshoot and she (confidently) implies I don’t know my job. My creative director drifts in and out of the conversation like a concerned weather pattern. Eventually, we agreed to meet in person.

A couple of days later, she arrives at our office, sets down an ancient, battle-scarred ThinkPad, and opens the file.

Client: “See? The colors are all wrong!”

I glance at the screen. It looks like the 1990s called and asked for its VGA palette back.

Me: “Your display is limited to a very narrow color range. That’s why everything looks washed out. On a modern monitor, the [main brand color] renders exactly as specified. Here—look at it on my screen.”

She peers at my monitor. The <main brand color> is bright, brand-correct, and blissfully not-sad.

Client: “…I see.”

We delivered the full campaign shortly after. Feedback was minimal.

When brand colors are “wrong,” sometimes it’s not the branding. It’s the time machine you’re viewing them on.

This is an email conversation with a client about logging in to the service my employer offers. This happened long ago, when automatic password changes were not yet so common.

Client: “I cannot log in.”

Me: *The same day.* “What happens when you try to log in? If you get an error message saying ‘Incorrect username or password’, please contact your administrator for password reset.”

Two days later:

Client: “I still cannot log in. The password is correct.”

Me: *The same day.* “Can you please describe in detail what happens when you try to log in? Does the page freeze, or do you get some error message? If you get an error message saying ‘Incorrect user name or password’, please contact your administrator for password reset. A reset is the only way to get around this error message.”

Three days later:

Client: “I’m still unable to log in. My work is piling. The error message says ‘Incorrect user name or password’, but the password is correct.”

Me: *The same day.* “The only way to get around the error message saying ‘Incorrect user name or password’ is to contact your administrator for a password reset. Even if you are writing the password correctly.”

Two days later:

Client: “Okay, I’ll try that. But the password is correct!”

I work with damage claims. I am the one who decides if your claim is valid and if you get money. I am allowed to pay out a claim in case of leniency. Up until a four-digit payout, I do not have to discuss it with anyone, and I make sure I write down everything. If there is a payout, I can say why, what, when, and why again.

A client hands in a claim. A machine my company placed broke down, unexpectedly, and it needed to be fixed. We paid for the technicians, but it needed two visits before it was fully fixed. There were no damages, but the client claims extra use of electricity. I ask for proof, though according to our contract, we are not obligated to compensate anything in this specific case.

What the client sends me is a bar graph, with no actual numbers or usage, just bars that end between numbers like 0 – 27 – 54… not even sensible numbers. I do my best and estimate that the client used 48 kWh extra. Let’s pretend that it is 50 euros. I offer 75 euros, just to be on the safe side. 

The response to the offer?

Client: “This is much too low! According to my electricity company, it is 52 kWh! I demand you compensate me fairly.”

Me: “I recalculated the extra usage. It would come to about 55 euros. I could transfer that amount to you, but since that is less, I re-offer 75 euros out of leniency.”

Client: “We still think it’s too low, but we decided it is not worth our energy and time, so you can transfer 75 euros to our bank account.”

Some people are just so ungrateful.

I was working with a large national client here in Australia on a database. I’d completed work for this client on and off over the past 5 years or so with no problems. In fact, they were probably one of my favourite clients up until this point.

Until this happened.

Client: “Hey, so we need to kill this project. The company has decided to move in a different direction with regard to R&D operations, and the database is no longer required.”

Me: “Okay, well, that’s a shame as we were over 80% done. You have my invoices for the work completed so far, so once they’re paid, we’re all done.”

Client: “Yeah, because the project is being terminated prior to completion, the executive has said we can’t pay your invoices.”

Me: “Well, the work has been done, and you still need to pay me for it as per our contract. But if they’re refusing to pay, then I guess I’ll have to escalate.”

I then download a copy of the database onto my backup server and remove all of the work I’ve completed from the existing database on their SharePoint. I also began small claims proceedings.

A few hours later:

Client: “Hey, so where is all of the work you completed? The database is useless without it!

Me: “I removed it. You were paying me per hour to complete the work, but seeing as your executive has decided not to pay, you don’t get to see the fruits of my labour.”

Client: “But the database can’t work without it! What are we supposed to do?”

Me: “I thought your executive was going in a different direction?”

Client: “Well, yes, but that direction still involved the database in its current form.”

Me: “Well, good news, I have a database in prototype form I can give you. The cost is [my original contract fee + 20%].”

Client: “But that’s more than we were paying you!”

Me: “No, it’s more than the amount you were supposed to pay me. But you didn’t pay me at all, so now you can purchase the finished product for a premium.”

Client: “Fine. I’ll send over a purchase order.”

They ended up paying me for the finished product because, apparently, that came out of a different budget, which the executive was happy to spend.

I run my own measuring company for flooring projects; carpet, vinyl, all that. Every appointment, I confirm a two-hour arrival window the night before or the morning of. Then, when I’m leaving the previous client’s house, I text an exact ETA.

They confirm. I arrive. They’re not there. I call.

Customer: “Oh! I’ll be there in half an hour. I’ll see you soon!”

Most of my appointments take fifteen minutes or less, so now I’m just losing money. I technically have the authority to leave a note and reschedule after I’ve waited fifteen minutes, but they always show up at the fourteen-minute mark.

When they finally arrive, I explain:

Me: “Being on time is a point of pride for me. Now I’m late for the rest of my appointments.”

Customer: “Calm down, the time is just a general guideline, right?”

Me: “No. I aim to be exact.”

Customer: “Well, you should chill a little. Be more relaxed.”

Me: “Cool. In that case, I’ll be relaxed and chill when I take your floor measurements.”

Customer: “Well, no…”

It never ceases to amaze me how adults can’t manage their time.