Hello one and all! A special welcome to folks finding your way here through Liz Strauss’ epic list o’ blogs. A tip of the hat to you, and a big sloppy kiss to the rest of you devoted QRW acolytes…

Today we continue a new series started last week, offering some specifics in a world of generics. Case studies – we know ‘em, we sometimes write ‘em, and we often find ourselves buying useful and useless stuff by reading them. So why not use the power of case studies to better our freelancing abilities? Today and in the coming weeks I’ll use a few examples from the QRW office as one potential way of approaching some common problems and annoying pains in the ass, complete with details, mistakes, and lessons. We’ll look at case studies in how to write about topics you have no familiarity with; how to handle requested rewrites; how to deal with needy (and even bitchy) clients; and how to bargain and barter your way to full pipelines.

Our case study starting us off today is one in which yours truly fucks up again.

Background. Occasionally, thankfully, us writers get pretty damn busy. Last summer, I had an insane workload, one filled with long days, tight deadlines, and some nice cash. But in the midst of this, I had a couple rush assignments from a longtime client. This company, a staffing firm in a highly select field, enlisted me to write comprehensive position profiles with job details, company specifics, and even full articles about the target community. Our arrangement includes a conference call to start off each new position profile, and then an expected turnaround of 48 hours.

Problem. Busy-ness. Haste. Anxiety. It adds up to shitty work. I turned in two profiles with numerous errors my client spotted, errors he had pointed out previously in the template that we used for each profile, as well as some other pretty egregious ones.

My thoughts: Ah crap. But are you kidding me? This dude should be grateful I’m turning this work around as decent as it is. Does he even know how busy I am? And does he even know that I have other clients who pay me a bunch more? (Mental flip of the hair and Hiltonesque scoff)

Problem 2. Naturally, my client expressed some concern about the errors as a sign that my work was deteriorating. But not just that. He felt I was increasingly hard to get a hold of for work, and that I perhaps didn’t value him as much as other clients.

My thoughts: WTF?? …OK, so maybe he hit the nail on the head with that last one. But you gots to be kidding me. Deflect, Amy, deflect. This ain’t my fault. Does he even know how hard I work? …OK, shit. Maybe he has some points. (Sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach commences)

My mistakes: So many, my sweet ones, as you can start to count off. One, I let a busy schedule result in subpar work. I didn’t give myself the time to submit the best work I could. Two, I also let a busy schedule delay my response to his calls. I pride myself on returning calls within at least 24 hours; usually, just within a couple hours. I let that slide, and he noticed. Worst of all? He did what was right. He expressed concerns about the quality of work he was receiving for his money and his trust. Instead of listen to him, I tried to provide excuses, deflect blame, and basically put it off on his unrealistic expectations.

My thoughts: So you’re stubborn, Amy. You’re smart and hardworking. But you ain’t right all the time, sweet cheeks. And you’re blowing a good client relationship because of it. (Mental stomping of feet and tantrum throwing continues)

Next Steps: I wanted to keep fighting on the phone call. He was presenting his case, and as my face heated and hands sweated, I wanted to run for the hills (or at least the safety of my bed), pointing fingers anywhere else but me as I ran. But somehow I pulled it together. At the time, perhaps I was just tired and chose the path of least resistance. I shut up. I let him talk. And as he did, I really listened. I realized I was fucking up, and there was no one to blame but me. So I thanked him for his candor, and apologized for my mistakes. I told him plainly that I had messed up, and hoped to have a chance to make it right.

My thoughts: Ugh. Just… ugh. I need a beer. And a swift baseball bat to the head.

Results: I followed up my call with an email expressing again my thanks and apologies. I included two pristine new versions of the profiles. He accepted all, and we are still working together today. And each project I send his way? I quadruple check before that final version goes out.

Lessons learned: What do you think, kids? Here’s what I learned. Suck it up when you fuck it up. Admit mistakes and issue sincere apologies. And then don’t do it again. Simple, but damn if it ain’t pretty hard too.

Your turn: Time to share, babies! Had any similar situations where pride almost got in the way? How did you solve it? Do you prevent these things from happening?

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