That Time When You Get Contracted to Work on a Website That Wasn’t Even Your Client’s Property…

I’m doing great, Morgan. Thanks so much for having me. I’m really excited to be here—and also slightly nervous about revisiting this story because it still feels unreal even now.

Of course. Coffee is essential. There’s no way I could function without it, especially when talking about something like this.

(Laughs) It really is. And actually, there’s a bit of a story behind this mug. I got it during a business trip to Dallas. And, you know, they say everything is bigger in Texas—and apparently, that includes coffee cups.

Exactly. And in this case, I probably needed an even bigger one.

So, I work in custom web development, and when I first started, it was just me handling everything. Naturally, my clients were mostly solopreneurs—people running their own businesses without large teams or complex organizational structures. That usually makes things simpler. There’s one decision-maker, one set of expectations, and a fairly direct communication line.

Yes, absolutely. And that’s what makes this situation so surprising. Because it started exactly like that.

This client came through a referral, which usually signals trust. She was enthusiastic, eager to get started, and very motivated to fix her website. But she was also clearly frustrated.

Exactly. Many of my clients had worked with developers before who didn’t deliver. Sometimes the work was incomplete. Sometimes it was poorly done. And sometimes the developer simply disappeared.

Yes—and that’s exactly what she described. She had been working with someone who essentially vanished, leaving her with a partially completed website that she couldn’t move forward with. So, from my perspective, this looked like a very familiar situation: A frustrated client with an incomplete project needing someone reliable to step in and fix it.

The website itself was built on Shopify, which made things seem even more straightforward. Shopify is a structured platform. Compared to something like WordPress, it tends to have fewer surprises. The ecosystem is controlled, the tools are standardized, and most issues are relatively predictable.

Exactly. I assumed it would be a textbook case—update the theme, fix a few issues, clean things up, and move on. But the very first step changed everything. I asked her for login credentials. And she said, “I’m not sure how to log into my website.”

It is—but surprisingly, it’s not rare. Many small business owners hand over control of their websites without keeping their own access details.

Exactly. Or even more accurately, it’s like giving someone the keys to your store. Imagine owning a physical store—inventory, cash register, everything—and just handing over the keys to someone without any oversight. People would never do that in real life. But digitally, they don’t think the same way.

Yes, and it’s dangerous. Because with a website—especially an e-commerce one—you’re dealing with real money, customer data, and business operations. If someone else controls that, they essentially control your entire business. So I suggested reaching out to Shopify support. They’re generally very responsive and helpful. However, because I wasn’t an authorized user, I couldn’t directly handle the support interaction. So I coached her through it—telling her what to say, how to respond, and how to navigate the process.

Exactly. But things weren’t going smoothly. She couldn’t verify key account details. She didn’t have access to certain information. And the process kept dragging on. At first, I thought this was normal. People forget things, accounts get locked—it happens. But then the delays started to feel unusual.

Eventually, I was looped into an email thread with Shopify support, which was strange. Normally, these issues are resolved quickly through chat. Then, after a lot of back-and-forth, I finally got access to the store.

It did—until I realized I only had partial access. Out of dozens of permissions, I had access to only a handful. I couldn’t modify the site, couldn’t access payment settings, and couldn’t make meaningful changes.

Exactly. It was progress—but not enough to move forward. At this point, we were two to three months into the project. The client had paid a deposit and ongoing fees—but no visible improvements had been made. Naturally, she became frustrated.

Then I received a very strongly worded email. It basically said: “I haven’t seen any results. Either show progress immediately or refund my money.”

Absolutely. And this is where contracts become critical. My contract allowed either party to terminate within 30 days if expectations weren’t met. She invoked that clause. So now I had 30 days to fix a problem that I didn’t fully understand.

It was incredibly stressful. I doubled down—contacted Shopify again, pushed harder, and tried to regain full access. Eventually, we succeeded. And that’s when everything changed. The twist: the client didn’t own the website

When I finally gained deeper access, I discovered something shocking. The client did not own the website.

Completely. She didn’t own: Nothing. The previous developer owned everything. Which meant that for nearly three months, I had been trying to gain access to—and effectively work on—someone else’s website.

It really was. And in hindsight, there were signs—but nothing that clearly pointed to this conclusion. I explained everything to her. I told her clearly: “This is not your website.” I offered to build her a new one from scratch. But she refused. She insisted on continuing with the same site. At that point, I had no choice. I terminated the contract.

Absolutely:

That one step can save months of frustration.

Thank you for having me.