Earn better.

This month, I walked away from what seemed like a dream collaboration with a talented designer.
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The project? A deck of cards for quieting negative self-talk.
The outcome? A masterclass in negotiation red flags that I’m still unpacking.

I’m sharing this story (with all identifying details changed) because sometimes the most valuable lessons come from deals that don’t close.
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Let’s dissect it in five parts:

Part One

It started with me trying to create urgency. My opening email essentially said: “I need an answer by end of day tomorrow because if you’re not interested, I have to find other designers ASAP.”
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Part Two

The designer’s response was ambitious—and honestly, exciting. They had big ideas that went beyond just the cards. They envisioned a complete evolution of my brand, with mockups and fresh perspectives. I was actually intrigued by their vision.

But then came the terms: a 30-hour trade. They’d design, I’d provide marketing services. Equal exchange, right?

Then came the “Plus.”

Plus revenue share starting at 10% from product sales. Plus promotion and press visibility. Plus mentions in all marketing.

Wait. Plus? So it’s 30 hours AND revenue share AND ongoing marketing?
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Part Three

As we continued, the scope kept mysteriously growing. What started as a card deck design became:

• A complete rebrand
• A new website platform
• An umbrella brand architecture
• Future products (journals, calendars)
• Revenue share on ALL of it

I was actually open to the bigger vision—it was exciting! But it complicated everything. Were we trading 30 hours for card design, or 30 hours for reimagining my entire business? The project boundaries became so blurry I couldn’t track what we were actually agreeing to.

When I questioned whether the terms were equitable—30 hours from each of us PLUS equity to them—they disagreed. They assured me it was even because of the unique value they’d bring.
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Part Four

I spent days crafting a detailed contract that addressed everything we’d discussed. I thought I was being thorough. Professional. Clear.

The response? They made two significant changes:

1. The revenue share threshold dropped by 90%
2. They no longer needed one of the key services they’d originally requested

No explanation. No discussion. No acknowledgment that things had changed. Just… changed it.

This was the moment that broke it for me. Not the changes themselves—negotiations involve give and take. It was the casual revision of what we’d discussed, as if our previous conversations hadn’t happened.

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Part Five

My final email was simple: “I slept on it and I think it’s best if we part ways at this moment. I view negotiations as previews to the way we’d work together and this last exchange of emails left a bad taste in my mouth.”

My wife didn’t love that last line when I showed her. Thought it was too emotional, too unprofessional.

I’m still wrestling with whether I should have kept it more neutral. Part of me stands by the honesty—negotiations ARE visceral, and that bad taste was real data. But part of me wonders if I could have communicated the same boundary without the personal edge.

Their response was gracious, even sweet. They wished me well and asked to buy the first deck. But here’s what I know now: A gracious exit doesn’t erase a problematic negotiation.
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Here’s the thing: They’re an incredibly talented designer. Their work is genuinely stunning. In a different universe, with different terms, this could have been magical. But talent doesn’t equal partnership fit. And beautiful work doesn’t justify bad terms.
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Final Lessons:

1. Your enthusiasm is data. Every “Woohoo!” and “Heck yeah!” in my emails told them I was already emotionally invested. But here’s my dilemma: Should we hide our excitement in negotiations? I genuinely WAS excited. This designer’s work is stunning, and I believe enthusiasm can build great partnerships. But there’s a difference between “I’m excited to explore this” and “I’ll accept any terms because I’m so thrilled you’re interested.” I’m still figuring out how to show genuine enthusiasm while maintaining negotiating power. Maybe the key isn’t hiding excitement but pairing it with clear boundaries?
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2. Scope creep is a strategy. What starts as “let’s collaborate on a deck” becomes “let’s rebuild your entire brand and I get a piece of everything forever.”
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3. Time pressure cuts both ways. I revealed my urgency on day one, and that became the reality of the entire negotiation. They knew I was pressed for time; I knew I was pressed for time. It put me in the weaker position from the start, and honestly? There wasn’t much I could do about it once I’d shown that card. Sometimes your constraints are real, and hiding them isn’t always possible—but revealing them always has a cost.
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4. “Partnership” is not a magic word. Calling something a partnership doesn’t make it equitable. Math makes it equitable.
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5. Your gut knows. That “bad taste” I mentioned? It had been building since that first email where they dismissed my existing brand. I just kept swallowing it down.

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The Epilogue

I ended up finding another designer. We agreed to a simple project rate. No equity. No scope creep. No mysterious changes to our agreement. The cards are beautiful – and launching next month! And the terms? Clear, clean, and exactly what we both agreed to from the start.

👉 What negotiations have you walked away from? What did they teach you? Hit reply or share on social (don’t forget to tag me!) —I’d love to hear your stories.

Now go get paid.

x Claire

P.S. – If you’re wondering whether you should walk away from a negotiation, ask yourself: “Is this conversation a preview of our working relationship?” The answer might surprise you.

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