Early freelancing was basically a box of chocolates.
Some clients were sweet.
Some became long-term relationships.
Some referred me to everybody they knew.
And some looked perfectly good on the outside until you bit into them and realized:
Oh.
What the fuck is this?
Meet Essence.
Not her real name, obviously.
But one of the most memorable clients from my early freelance days.
She didn't yell at me.
She didn't make creepy comments.
She didn't blow up my phone at midnight.
Essence had a different specialty.
She wanted premium work at clearance-rack prices.
I Really Wanted Her to Win
When I met Essence, I liked her immediately.
She was a woman entrepreneur.
A woman of color building something of her own.
And I wanted to support that.
I understood what it meant to be trying to build something without unlimited money, resources, or connections.
So I came into the relationship wanting to help.
Probably a little too much.
And Essence was great.
At first.
She loved my ideas.
Loved the work.
Loved having somebody she could depend on.
Everything was lovely until an invoice showed up.
Then suddenly we were doing forensic accounting.
Every Invoice Became an Investigation
“Did this really take two hours?”
“Why did this take so long?”
“Can you explain these hours?”
“Didn't we already talk about this?”
Girl.
Yes.
We talked about it.
Then I had to actually do it.
Every invoice turned into a negotiation over work I'd already completed.
And because I was still early in my freelance career, I would explain myself.
Line by line.
Email by email.
Task by task.
I wanted to prove I wasn't taking advantage of her.
Meanwhile, I wasn't noticing how much time I was spending defending the fact that I deserved to be paid.
The Discount Was Never Enough
Here's what I eventually realized.
Essence didn't necessarily want cheaper work.
She wanted the work she wanted at whatever price she had decided it should cost.
There's a difference.
So if something took four hours, the problem wasn't always that she didn't believe it took four hours.
The problem was that she didn't want to pay for four hours.
And I kept trying to solve that by being more accommodating.
Maybe I'll shave a little time off.
Maybe I won't bill for this part.
Maybe I'll throw this in.
Maybe I'll discount that.
Surely then she'll be happy.
Nope.
Because once you teach somebody that your invoice is negotiable after the work is finished, you've created a game I promise you don't want to keep playing.
Then Came the Invoice
Eventually, there was an invoice she just didn't pay.
Not disputed before the work.
Not renegotiated before I started.
The work had already been done.
She had received it.
Used it.
And the invoice sat there.
I followed up.
Nothing.
Followed up again.
Excuses.
Another follow-up.
More waiting.
And that's when the relationship finally became crystal clear.
This wasn't a client struggling to understand my billing.
This was someone who had gotten comfortable making the cost of her business my problem.
Absolutely not.
Supporting Someone's Vision Doesn't Mean Financing It
This was the part I had to untangle for myself.
I genuinely wanted to support Essence.
I believed in women supporting women.
I especially understood wanting to see another woman of color succeed.
But somewhere along the way, I had confused support with sacrifice.
Her business having a limited budget did not mean my labor had less value.
Her being an entrepreneur did not make me an investor.
And sharing parts of each other's experience did not mean I was obligated to subsidize her company with my time.
I can want another woman to win without volunteering to lose.
That lesson stayed with me.
Your Invoice Isn't the Opening Bid
I also learned to stop treating my invoices like invitations to negotiate.
If we agreed on the rate...
And we agreed on the scope...
And I completed the work...
Then the invoice isn't:
“Here's what I was thinking. Thoughts?”
No, ma'am.
It's what you owe.
Questions about scope belong before the work starts.
Budget concerns belong before the work starts.
If something needs approval before additional hours are added, put that process in place before the work starts.
But repeatedly questioning legitimate hours after receiving the work?
That's not collaboration.
That's exhausting.
Cheap Clients Can Be Very Expensive
The funny part is that clients like Essence often cost you more than the invoice suggests.
There's the work itself.
Then there's explaining the work.
Defending the hours.
Following up on payment.
Sending another reminder.
Checking your account.
Writing another email.
Wondering whether you're being unreasonable.
Thinking about the money when you should be working on something else.
The emotional labor alone deserves its own damn invoice.
By the time you finally get paid, assuming you get paid, you've spent even more unpaid time trying to collect money for time you already spent.
Make it make sense.
I Changed How I Did Business After Essence
Eventually, my processes got tighter.
Clear scope.
Clear rates.
Clear payment terms.
Clear expectations around additional work.
Deposits or payment structures that reduced how much unpaid work I could have sitting out there.
And, most importantly, I stopped being afraid of conversations about money.
Because the woman who questions every hour isn't automatically being financially responsible.
Sometimes she's telling you exactly what working with her is going to feel like.
Listen.
Not Every Client in the Box Is Sweet
I've had incredible clients throughout my career.
Clients who paid early.
Clients who tipped.
Clients who sent referrals.
Clients who trusted my judgment.
Clients who became friends.
And then there was Essence.
The chocolate that looked perfectly good until I got to the center.
But I don't regret working with her.
She taught me something I desperately needed to understand early:
Being kind does not require being financially careless.
Supporting someone's dream does not mean discounting your own.
And wanting another woman to win doesn't mean letting her win at your expense.
So here's to Essence.
Wherever she is.
I hope her business is thriving.
I also hope she's paying her invoices.
On time.
And in full.
CURRENT MOOD
“Bitch Better Have My Money” by Rihanna.
Because after the third conversation about my hours, we're no longer discussing whether the work was worth it.
You approved the work.
You received the work.
Now, Essence...
Run me my money.
Listen to “Bitch Better Have My Money” on YouTube
PEAK OF THE WEEK
Getting paid without having to chase anybody.
There's something deeply satisfying about sending an invoice and watching it get paid exactly as agreed.
No interrogation.
No five-email explanation.
No suddenly discovering that the client has developed amnesia about the rate we discussed.
Just:
Invoice sent.
Invoice paid.
Beautiful.
Essence would be proud.
Or horrified.
Either way, I've grown.
#PayTheDamnInvoice
XXX,
M💋
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