The Business of Client Selection
"I'm in the business of client selection."
That's what on my favorite mentors used to say. She is a consultant and accomplished executive who had earned that privilege, but it's my goal. Perhaps it's yours, too.
Connecting with the right client is not easy. It's a bit like connecting with a best friend or lover – there may be a lot of fish in the sea, but which one is for me?
Ask yourself: Who will you work for? What will you do?
What's right for one person may not be what's right for another. Is the right client the one who will let me do exactly what I did last time? Or, the opposite? Is the right client someone who will let me do whatever I want? Is it the organization whose values are closest to my own? The one who will pay me?
It can be hard to find the right client because what is right is a reflection of you. Any good communication is 50% sender and 50% receiver. So it's about them, but it's also about your own goals and values. To find the right client, you have to know yourself.
But let's not get into therapy, let's stick to design.
The profession of design as we know it today is a product of the industrial era. AIGA is a hundred-year-old organization with its roots in printing and as publishing emerged industrial scale. AIGA and the designers who support it have adapted to changes over time, moving from a focus on production to communications to strategy.
I've been working for one-quarter of that time and have witnessed the emergence of the computer in a professional setting. I've experienced first-hand how a new tool, let alone the internet, has shaped the design profession I thought I was joining.
A few decades ago, the lifeblood of graphic design firms included producing fancy annual reports and corporate identity programs. There was stiff competition for award shows as design peers ranked each other's work. Like the Oscars in Hollywood, award show marketing worked pretty well for a time. Early in my career, being included in an award book could generate work. Potential clients looking for resources could view these books as lists of vetted resources. There weren't all that many designers, and hard-earned award publicity was pretty rare. Clients might find you.
Then came desktop publishing. Companies could produce artwork for in Microsoft Word, which was on everyone's computer. Digital brochure templates and stock image libraries emerged. While graphic designers were busily ranking each other's work on subjective quality, I fear we risked a collective misunderstanding of our value.
Many designers believe clients most value them because of their aesthetic skills – typography, layout, color choice, etc. This was partly true, but in large measure, clients relied on graphic design firms to simply get the job done. Printing a brochure used to be a mystery, but no longer. Overly pragmatic clients started simply bypassing the designer and going straight to press. I don't mean to invoke Karl Marx, but there was a shift in power as designers were no longer central to the means of production.
Then came the internet, smartphones, apps. Next is the promise of the Internet of Things, predictive analytics, and artificial intelligence. More shifts are occurring in what clients are looking for and may value. Rest assured, people aren't looking to print as many annual reports and identity standards as they once did, so what's next? Design thinking? UX?
Graphic design has had a front-row seat to many changes that are only now coming to pass in many other industries – consumer products, healthcare, education, etc. I believe this gives designers an advantage.
These changes are happening even more quickly. Technology change and adoption rates are increasing. As we look ahead, we should consider what it means to be a designer today, and where we add the most value.
Change is hard. Some designers are nostalgic for production. We should honor the past, but the world has changed. It can be even harder to let go of the idea that your aesthetic ability is a primary differentiator.
Aesthetics matter. Apple, probably more than any other company in recent memory, has set the bar for aesthetic experiences that has gotten the attention of all clients.
However, as a designer, it's even harder to stand out. There aren't five award shows; there are 500, and even more blogs. Designers and clients alike have access like never before to new platforms. Instagram, Pinterest, Behance, Dribble, etc., are inspiring places, but your work can feel like a drop in the ocean. We all have aesthetic design heroes, but many clients don't see a difference between your hero and a high school kid with Adobe Creative Suite. Even as an employer of designers, all the portfolios look pretty good because the templates are so polished. They also look the same.
Today, many designers are independent contractors. Others work for in-house for companies, and a smaller number work for design firms. If we step back a little, we might see that design is more as a skill than a profession. Design is a kind of philosophy and a process, but typically you're designing something – a product, a service, an environment, marketing materials, software, etc. I prefer to think of design as a verb rather than a noun. Design is an activity, a means to an end.
Designers who need to connect with external clients need to be clear about their goal. Who will you work for? What will you do?
In parallel with the rise of the computer, there has also been an increase in graphic design professionalism. AIGA, the professional association for design, plays a role. Standards of conduct, salary surveys, and conferences like this one are hallmarks of professionalism. According to the dictionary, "a profession is a paid occupation, especially one that involves prolonged training and a formal qualification."
Formal requirements for designers have been an open issue for a long time. While a healthy debate is warranted, the lack of resolution makes it hard for clients to recognize designers as professionals. Further, the ripple effects of globalization and technology change are having an enormous effect on all markets. In some areas, the idea of professionalism itself is in question. In a period of significant change, who is an expert? All this puts a larger burden on the individual designer to clarify her value.
To many clients, designers can all look the same. It means that design is often bought and sold as a commodity – defined as "a basic good used in commerce that is interchangeable with other commodities of the same type."
Those of us who seek the right clients find ourselves fighting industry norms. The tools of commodification include RFPs, lengthy proposals, and arduous agreements. Designers spend a lot of time jumping through these hoops to distinguish themselves from alternatives or competitors. Many designers love what they do and will make economic concessions to get the work. For designers who struggle, the right client is any client.
Some paperwork is necessary to perform business transactions. Contracts are legal documents that detail the mutual requirements between you and your client – what exactly you're going to do. They deal with things like payment terms, ownership, what happens if the relationship goes south. Familiarize yourself with the nuts and bolts of contracts. Legalese can be daunting, but it's mostly its fancy ways of saying simple things. It's worth learning the basics.
Contracts are expected to be about negotiation, and nearly everything is negotiable. Don't like what your client has in your contract? Cross it out and send it back. It may take longer, and you won't win every time, but it's what lawyers and purchasing agents expect. Contract attorneys call it redlining. It's a way to communicate and come to a resolution. Digital haggling is built into Microsoft Word.
But a contract is not a proposal. Here is a proposal: "I'll give you an idea for a logo, and you pay me ten bucks. Deal?" Too many firms spend an inordinate amount of time trying to convince clients in proposals that they are the right fit. If you're paddling so hard close to the finish line, you may have already lost the race. As they say, games are won in practice. Or, think about it this way: A marriage proposal is not a marriage license.
So, if we aren't distinguishing ourselves on production or aesthetic ability alone, or through contracts or proposals, how do you stand out? How to do you connect with the right client? It brings us back to the question these essential questions: Who will you work for? What will you do?
Another way to ask these questions is: Who is your ideal customer, and what are your capabilities?
From a marketing standpoint, the way to target customers is to think about segments. A customer segment that fits into an industry is often referred to as a vertical market, which can be the easiest way to think about a customer group. Do you work for hospitals? Technology start-ups? Public universities? Law firms? Hair salons?
Targeting a market can sound limiting for creative people who seek diversity. However, I think nearly all designers eventually fall into a category of work and it may be beneficial to recognize it sooner rather than later.
There is strong evidence to suggest that niche-based targeting is a way to cut through the competitive noise. It can be advantageous to be the best in the world at something specific than being generally good at a lot of things. Are you a jack-of-all-trades or a specialist? Despite there being a few generalist high-profile stars, having specialized expert knowledge can be more valuable than being a generalist.
At a minimum, targeting a group of customers makes them easier to find. When it comes down to it, when you target a niche, you can buy a list. They all read the same industry magazines and visit the same websites. They all go to the same trade show, and your job is to crash the party.
What you do can be considered a horizontal specialization. Graphic design, product design, or UX may be your discipline, but consider what you produce with your capabilities. Software? Environments? Posters? What do you typically create for your customers?
Going a little deeper, what do your ideal customers really need? Have you worked in this space long enough to know what they need before they even start talking? If so, you are becoming specialized in a niche – the crosshairs between a horizontal and vertical market.
Specialists charge more because they offer specific products and services that are more that is relevant to their buyer. There are fewer substitutes. They are thought leaders and develop their own intellectual property.
The right clients are those to whom you can bring the most value. Design is mostly about people, understanding their needs, and creating things that are useful, usable, and desirable. These are all sources of value. Any business is built on an unmet need, and your job is to understand where you can create or add the most value.
As a designer, it's important to think about sources of value. I think it's worth asking yourself if your real value is your aesthetic ability? Production skills? Usability research? Content organization? Strategic thinking? Group facilitation?
For my part, I think there are essentially two modes in design: Prototyping – which is making to think, and framing – thinking to make. Designers typically make to think. For them, exploring a prototype is a way to solve a problem. Design thinking, on the other hand, is a way to reframe a problem, or thinking to make.
Some people view the term "design thinking" as a cliché, but I believe it is still an underutilized and misunderstood set of skills. Some designers are a lot more valuable than they know. I'd encourage designers – and everyone else – to consider Darwin here: It is not the strongest that survives; it's the one that is able best to adapt to the changing environment.
In some ways, design thinking is about self-awareness. If we pull the parts of design out of a designers head, separate thinking from making, we might better understand what how we're valued. Graphic designers in the 1980s were confident that they were most valued for their ability to layout and produce brochures, but there was more value in their thinking. When new technology replaced former methods of production, they had to adapt to survive.
Design thinking is also about helping clients not jump to conclusions. Drawing out a process is a way to solve harder, more valuable problems. When we unpack what's really going on in a creative process, we can identify sources of value.
As we better understand our value, we can measure and charge for it differently. We might ask ourselves if an hourly rate is even an appropriate way to value what we do.
Many clients expect us to compete on hourly rates. We have been trained by lawyers, accountants, and service professionals of all kinds to expect a fixed fee per hour as a standard measure of value. I believe treating that every hour as an equal value is like treating your brain as an assembly line. How long does it take to come up with a good idea? If you think about it, hourly rates have a built-in incentive to be unproductive. Hourly rates are an industrial paradigm, perhaps not well suited for the new thinking work ahead.
What can be automated will be automated. In this environment, human creativity that cannot be automated will remain a valued skill. So what is a good idea worth?
I'd encourage designers today to have a better understanding of the value of what they bring to their customers, rather than haggling over an hourly rate. Ask your client: What if you did nothing? What is it worth to you if the project was an enormous success? Then, what is the client willing to invest in the possibility of achieving that goal?
I see connecting with clients as a design problem. I'm far from perfect on this score, but if you're an independent designer or have your own firm, it's an ever-present issue. I believe people who work in-house should consider these things, too. They may not be worried about hourly rates, but they haggle for salaries and budgets. Ultimately, connecting with the right client is a choose-your-own-adventure story.
Tips to Connect with the Right Client
- What do you want? Know yourself.
- Who will you work for? What do they need?
- What will you do? What is your expertise?
- How do you add value? What will you charge?
If we understand our value, and to whom we are valuable, we can price ourselves accordingly. Know yourself, know the buyer, and find ways you really add value so that you can pick your clients – not the other way around.
From my presentation at the 2017 AIGA Design Conference in Minneapolis, "Connecting with the Right Client."