When I started out as a freelance designer, it was based on personal need; I’d been unceremoniously canned from a job after I taught a bubbly marketing co-worker how to use Illustrator. My boss had said “You should teach her everything you know, and in return she can teach you everything she knows!” I probably should have known something was up when I realized that she wasn’t teaching me any marketing skills, but I was young and stupid. The moment she learned the rudimentary bones of the design software, I was sailed off the back steps. There were official reasons, of course, and in the end I found myself walking out of the building, box of personal items in hand and a slightly dazed look of bewilderment on my face.

So, I took two things with me from that job; a complete list of business contacts in the area and a severance check that bought me the Adobe Design Suite for my newly purchased iMac. The business of self-employment and self-promotion I learned along the way. I made some horrible choices and some excellent ones, landed some regular customers, occasional freelance jobs, random contracts, and eventually worked my way back into mainstream jobs with non-profits or low-profits. I took the long way around and have the scars to prove it.

Why am I telling you this? Because I want you to read the rest of this post with the absolute comfort that each of the following scenarios has occurred to me, and I made equal amounts of craptastic choices and good conscientious ones. In short, I’m not telling you anything theoretical. All of these things happened to me. Listen and learn.

Pitfall One: Being afraid
I set up the meeting, showed the portfolio, got the appropriate wows and was asked to build a series of web graphics. Ecstatic that I was actually working, I drafted up a quickie contract and bid and shipped it off. They called and said “well, sounds about right.” They didn’t sign the contract, but I was afraid that if I pressed the issue they wouldn’t hire me. The web graphics job started at four graphics, bloated to eight, then ten, then sprouted rollovers, animated buttons, revisions, and a complete scrap and redesign. All along the way I was frightened to say “we need to talk about the price” because I thought they’d refuse to pay for the work, or worse - not use my graphics. In the end, I got paid 200 dollars for 40 hours of work (the real number of hours was closer to 80). The website ran for four years, generating close to a million dollars in revenue.

Lesson learned? Fear is a useless commodity. If you undertake a pro bono project, you are offering your skills for temporary usage. Don’t be tempted to pad the project out of fear of rejection or your own feelings of inadequacy, and especially don’t give in to those “camel in the tent” situations. If you feel manipulated, threatened or just plain worried that they won’t like you, then you’re thinking about them a lot more than they’re thinking about you. This story also involves failure to sign a contract; I might as well have handed them the keys to my house. Your pro bono contract is your shield and sword, and will keep you from fear, apprehension and project creep.

Pitfall Two: The Jesus Complex
I was hired as a theatre director for a kids group in my early dewy youth. When I was introduced to the board of directors, it was as a shining beacon of hope, cradling between my hands some renewed sense of purpose for all; a mighty rock by which they could strengthen the world. They had lost two other people before me, both of which promised to do great things and failed miserably. According to them, I was the solution to their woes. In the span of a year, I went from saviour to the source of all evil, mainly because I was unable to bring in enough money to keep the place afloat. Never mind that I was literally given a zero budget, no resources and a group of kids so jaded they knew I was being fired before I did. I had been placed so high on the pedestal that the fall proved fatal, and I basically had to pack my bags and leave town as yet another failed promise.

Lesson learned? If you take a project and are heralded as the ultimate solution to the woes of an organization, take rapid stock of the situation and decide if you wish to continue. Any group that will hang its entire hope on a new logo or new website is an organization looking for the next person to blame for their failure to thrive. Be very clear that your efforts will enhance their business, but not save it. I’ve said this before: any organization that clutches at you will eventually drag you under as well.

Pitfall Three: Stupid choices yield poor results
This is pretty broad, but it’s important. I was referred to a very small job: designing a small 200×70 pixel graphic for a very small website. It was just one little graphic, but the man running the site was pretty well-connected within the business community and I thought it was an excellent way to showcase my work to a broader audience. So I wrote up a bid and a tiny contract saying I’d generate three or four ideas for him.

About ten minutes after that email went out, I received a phone call from the client. “C’mon,” the guy said “I’m not gonna sign a contract for something like this…it’s just a quick graphic.” It was my second or third freelance gig and I was more concerned about getting a good reputation as an easy to work with designer. So I let it slide. A few days later I sent him four samples, each with the word “SAMPLE” across the front.

The phone rings again. “C’mon, now… I can’t tell if I like them with that big word across the front, and I need to see how it looks on the website.” Once again, I helpfully took the security off my files and mailed them back. Magically he stopped returning my calls, and, equally mysterious in nature, all four of my images showed up on his website. When I finally heard from him, his email reply was “I feel like 65 dollars for a single graphic is too much, so I am paying you 45 dollars and keeping all the files. Thank you.”

Lesson here? Pretty self-explanatory, but the first is to follow protocol, which includes signing a contract, securing your files and not bending to anyone who finds your complex desire for contracts and design plans absurd. If an organization which you intend to do pro bono work with laughs at your contract, politely and positively discuss why a contract is beneficial to all involved. If the laughter turns into refusal, then say “Thank you for the time you’ve given me, and I wish your company the very best,” then pick up your things and depart the building. If they demand that you give them source files, multiple samples, non-protected imagery or fonts, then point them to the contract and ask them if they wish to continue or not. Keep in mind that you’re offering a service, and if you don’t value it, nobody else will, either.

Pitfall Four: Death by Committee
This one is pretty long, but it’s vital. Remember the story of my firing at the very beginning of this page? It was my first experience working with a committee-style work environment. It sounds ludicrous, but it’s dead truth; I found myself with six supervisors. Any design, any brochure, any logo was to be approved by all six of these people. I literally found myself running around the building with a sign-off sheet begging for people to approve the latest revision, which would then return to the big boss, who would axe the edits made by the other six people, and then demand that I send it back around. It was a hell mercifully cut short by my firing (remember how I said that there were official reasons? One of them was “inability to produce materials in a timely fashion.”) Since then, I’ve learned quite a bit about swimming the shark-infested waters of design-by-committee.

Lesson learned? If the organization you’re working for has 14 people on their “Design Committee,” then don’t work with the committee. If this sounds absurdly simple, remember your contract, which states that they should provide a single point of contact for you to work through. Let them wrangle and finagle meetings of 14 people without you. This serves two purposes: they will have to come to a consensus before they deal with you, saving a lot of time on drafts and revisions, and it also keeps you from being considered an employee. You’re a guest at this table; don’t become such a familiar face that they ask you to bring the donuts and coffee.

That being said, you will have to meet all of the committee members, and usually at the very first meeting about the project. Be kind; realize that many non-profit (and some for-profit) employees are terrified of making decisions alone for fear of being blamed if things go sour, and be merciful. Rescue these folks from themselves. Don’t ask if they want to “throw out ideas” or if they’d like to “make suggestions before we start.” This is like tossing chickens into a pit of alligators. You’ll never get out of the room alive.

Instead, say something like “Has this committee discussed the website/logo/design item?” Nine times out of ten they will all look at each other uncomfortably; nobody expected homework. When you see this look, you can say “Well - I’ve created a questionnaire -” and hand a single copy to your Point of Contact. “And if you all work together, I’ll have a clear idea of your opinions and ideas.” Spend the remainder of this first meeting giving a project overview, a timeline and due dates. Don’t take more than 20 minutes. At the close of this meeting, make it clear that you will only need to meet with a few select staff at the next meeting (or even just the point of contact). Save the next full committee meeting for your in-person concept presentation.

These are the four major pitfalls of working - either for free or for pay - that I’ve had the joy and shame of experiencing myself. There are a host of smaller ones I’ve picked up through the years, like never taking more than three copies of a design, regardless of how many people are in the room; using designspeak in a roomful of nondesigners; treating yourself like a subordinate through self-deprecating humor; always remembering to dress like the people you’re working with at any meeting you may have.

I invite you to chime in with your “lessons learned.” Let your painful experiences light the way for some newbie, folks…because it is only through sharing our trials that we can avoid the pitfalls we’d never see on our own.

That’s it for me. Thanks for listening and feel free to share your stories. I look forward to them.

This series is dedicated to the exploration of pro bono practices: from how to find the non-profit client, understanding the expectations of not-for profit work, setting up contracts to protect both parties and the successful (and not so successful) ways to educate yourself and your client on how creatives can and should work together to the benefit of all involved. Along the way we’ll include international design experts, research and statistics, etiquette and most importantly, how to be part of the solution. Stay tuned and let your voices be heard.

Thomas (Tom) Stephan | Director of Something Clever
BoDo Author | Dyer Straits | Working Pro-bono