A Client Horror Story
That time when you land a huge client to end up being sued…
Watch the full episode →Hey everyone, welcome to the latest episode. I’m excited to have my new friend Matthew here. Matthew, welcome to the episode.
Yeah, Morgan, thank you for having me. I’m excited to talk—lots of cool stories today. We already started, right?
We did. Note to everyone watching—we actually started talking and then Matthew said, “Wait, you should press record.” I was like, good idea. There’s a Latin concept, in medias res , starting in the middle of things, so we’re doing a classic narrative technique here. But Matthew, you were about to show me your special beer—what is it?
Yes, this is probably one of the most famous beers in the world. It’s called Westvleteren. It’s very special because it’s extremely rare. You can’t just buy it online or internationally. You actually have to go to the monastery where monks still brew it themselves. There’s a limited amount produced every week. Nowadays, you can pre-order, but you still have to go there, wait in line, and you can only buy one crate—like 24 beers. A client of mine gifted it to me, so I’m enjoying it a lot. What’s funny is that big brewing companies have tried to buy it for millions, but the monks refuse. They keep it old school.
I had never heard of that in my life. I either know everything about a subject or nothing—and beer is one of those things I know nothing about. I didn’t even know monks brewed beer. Do you like beer, or are you more of something else?
I like beer, but what about you?
I go straight for whiskey—Irish coffee, actually. Cheers.
Cheers.
Before we jump into your story, I was about to share a theory when you said to hit record. Do you remember what it was?
Yeah, we were talking about how the hardest thing is to start something—and to finish it.
That’s right. I often think that in life, the hardest parts are starting and finishing. For incredibly talented people, the hardest part is just getting them to start. Once they do, they’re amazing—but flipping that switch is tough. On the other end, people can keep tweaking forever, chasing perfection, and never actually finish. Having the confidence to say “this is good enough” and launch—that’s just as hard. Those two bookends are the toughest parts of doing anything.
Yeah, I have some good stories around that. It’s been very hard for me too. But can I tell the story?
Let’s jump in.
I think it helps to give some background first. I grew up on a family farm—my father and brother are farmers. When I was about three years old, I became fascinated by plants. How does a tiny seed become a beautiful plant? It blew my mind. By age five, I told my parents I wanted to start gardening and grow my own food. At first, they said no—they didn’t have time or space—but eventually they said yes. I started, had some early success, and then completely failed because my garden was overrun by weeds. I was devastated. Later, I studied landscape architecture, did my master’s in Germany, and got a 9-to-5 job. But I burned out. I had signed up to work outside, to do amazing projects—not sit in an office. So I quit and decided to travel the world to understand how to create beautiful, sustainable environments. I visited farms, eco-tourism projects, and even went to the Amazon rainforest. It was incredible but also intense—spiders, dangerous animals. I got dengue fever there, which was a huge wake-up call. My life went downhill—I had no income, I was sick, struggling. From that moment, I decided to rebuild my life from scratch. I started my own business because I believe business is one of the best ways to create change. I launched a garden design company. And honestly, the hardest part for me was exactly what you said—starting and finishing. I’m a perfectionist. I wanted everything to be perfect. Then I had a client who, after we completed her garden, told me she was tired of hiring landscape architects and wanted to learn to do it herself. That sparked an idea: I would teach people how to design, create, and maintain their own gardens. I hired a coach because I didn’t know how to structure it. I had years of knowledge, but needed to simplify it. We created a nine-week program with a clear start and finish—and it became successful. It helps people build their own gardens, which is pretty unique.
I love that story. It really shows how emotionally difficult starting and finishing can be.
Yeah, and what’s interesting is how I launched it. I sold the course before it even existed. I had a rough outline of nine steps, and my coach told me, “Go sell it first.” I thought he was crazy—but I trusted him. So people bought it, and then I built it week by week. Every week I had to show up, deliver content, and improve it based on feedback. I was basically one week ahead the whole time. It was intense, especially toward the end, but it forced me to finish.
That’s amazing. It forced accountability.
Exactly. Now I even use AI in the program. We gather data—location, soil type—and generate a complete list of plants that will grow in a client’s garden, along with instructions. It saves a lot of time, even in my one-on-one work.
Incredible. So now we’ve built up all this context—let’s get into the horror story.
Yeah. About three years ago, I was contacted by a wealthy client in Frankfurt. He liked my work and wanted to collaborate. We had a good initial conversation, and I made him an offer. But here’s my first mistake—I saw it as a big-money opportunity. I thought, “This could be huge.” That mindset alone was already wrong. I should have focused on value, not money. On top of that, my gut told me something felt off. He seemed nice, but I wasn’t fully trusting it. Still, I ignored it because of the money.
Two mistakes—chasing money and ignoring your gut.
Exactly. We moved forward. I designed everything, made a full quote, and he accepted. He wanted to start quickly, but local contractors were unavailable. So I made another risky decision—I brought in a Belgian contractor team, which meant long-distance logistics, trucks, hotels, everything. We arrived on-site ready to start—and the place wasn’t ready. Other contractors were still working, there was scaffolding, pipes being installed. Total chaos. We couldn’t even begin.
That’s exactly why contracts exist. They force you to discuss these scenarios in advance—delays, costs, readiness. And not just write them down, but communicate them clearly and repeatedly.
Yes, I didn’t do that. No proper contract, no clear communication. Big mistake.
You have to hammer important messages. Not once—multiple times. People don’t internalize things until they hear them repeatedly.
Absolutely. Because of that, we had delays, tension, and a bad start. Then more issues came up—unexpected pipes, complications. Costs increased, but I didn’t communicate it clearly. I just kept pushing forward, trying to fix things as we went.
That’s another key lesson—communication. If you give clients two things—good results and good communication—they’ll love you. Even if one is missing, they’ll tolerate it. But if both are missing, you’re in trouble.
Exactly. We somehow finished the project. The result was beautiful, and the client seemed happy. But then suddenly, I get a message: the basement is flooded. Water damage everywhere. And they blamed us. They threatened a lawsuit—claiming damages between €50,000 and €100,000. It was one of the most stressful moments of my life. I thought I might lose everything. Luckily, I had taken photos before starting the project. In one photo, I noticed another contractor damaging the foundation of the house with machinery. That was the real cause.
That saved you.
Completely. We hired a top lawyer in Frankfurt, which was expensive—€400 per hour—but necessary. The case dragged on. The client kept pushing, even adding claims about plants not growing fast enough. Eventually, the case went to court. There were pages and pages of claims—even about small bushes. But in the end, we won. Or rather, in Germany, it’s percentage-based—we were 92% right.
That’s a solid victory.
Yes, I’ll take it. It was a brutal experience, but I learned so much—about contracts, communication, documentation, and trusting your gut.
Get legal insurance if you have a company.
I have a couple of assorted thoughts—just wanted to make sure I didn’t forget them. My cynical side says: “This guy suing you for €50,000? If he’s so rich, that’s nothing.” But the fact that he’s suing you like this makes me wonder how he got so rich in the first place.
Yeah, I heard from other contractors who worked for him that he did this a lot. He would get the whole job done, then refuse to pay the final invoice, claiming something was wrong. It’s a pattern. And the building itself was beautiful—an old four-story structure from the 1800s—so a lot of great craftsmen worked on it.
There’s an important lesson here about gut feeling. But even beyond that, the reality is that in our society, there are good and bad people at every level. Unfortunately, sometimes the easiest way to get very rich is by doing things that aren’t exactly fair to others. Not always—but often enough that you have to be cautious. I don’t think rich people are inherently more dishonest. It’s more that they have the resources to act on dishonesty if they choose to. Someone without money might have the same tendencies but simply lacks the means to act on them. I think about it like this: growing up, I had relatives I thought were incredibly honest—faithful, upright people. But later in life, I realized that sometimes what looks like honesty is actually just a lack of opportunity or courage to do otherwise. So when it comes to business, wealth doesn’t necessarily change character—it amplifies what’s already there.
That’s a great way to put it. And interestingly, a few months later—maybe 9 to 12 months after this situation—I worked with another wealthy client from Hamburg. Completely different experience. From the first call, my gut feeling was positive. He was interested in my work, even my personal story. I gave him a premium quote because I knew he wanted fast, high-quality results. He accepted immediately. We moved quickly—contractors, execution, everything. Within a few months, the project was done, and he was extremely happy. And the biggest difference? He paid invoices immediately—same day or next day. No friction, no games. To this day, he’s one of my favorite clients.
That’s fascinating. And it even lines up with stereotypes—Frankfurt as the finance capital with aggressive “finance bro” energy, versus Hamburg’s more refined, aristocratic reputation. Of course, stereotypes aren’t always accurate, but sometimes they reflect patterns.
True—but every city has both good and bad people.
Absolutely. Now, one thing you mentioned that really stood out—and I don’t think it’s ever come up before on this podcast—is documenting everything before and after a project. You take photos and videos before starting construction. That’s incredibly smart. In my previous company, we did something similar in digital marketing. Before touching a client’s website, we’d take screenshots. That way, when clients later said, “Nothing really changed,” we could show them exactly what it looked like before.
Exactly. And in my case, one specific photo saved me a lot of money. I almost missed capturing a detail—if I had moved my camera slightly differently, I wouldn’t have had proof. But that one image made all the difference.
That’s the same principle. Whether it’s construction or digital work, documenting the “before” is incredibly powerful. And now, even better—video. Screen recordings, walkthroughs. It’s the modern version. More broadly, there’s an underrated professional lesson here: document the before and after. Clients don’t always care about the process—they compare the start and the result. And having that evidence protects you and helps with marketing too. Another point: there’s a saying among lawyers in the U.S.—people who fight lawsuits “on principle” are what make lawyers rich. What it means is, even if you’re right, legal battles are expensive. Lawyers charge hundreds per hour, and it adds up quickly. So when you enter a legal dispute, you have to factor in not just winning—but the cost of winning.
That’s something I’ve learned too. Sometimes it’s better to de-escalate early. I actually had another situation recently with a long-term client. He sent a very long email listing complaints after the project finished. I could sense it might escalate into a legal issue if I didn’t act fast. So I applied techniques from Never Split the Difference by Chris Voss. I met him in person, let him talk for an hour without interrupting, acknowledged his concerns, and then calmly explained my perspective with facts. That mutual understanding completely de-escalated the situation.
That’s a fantastic application of negotiation principles. Before we wrap up, I want to highlight a few key lessons.
payment structure. Many consultants wait until the end for a big payment—but that’s risky. You can charge upfront or structure payments so the final amount is smaller.
Yes, I’ve actually started offering a discount for full upfront payment. It improves cash flow and removes that awkward dynamic where clients delay payments near the end.
Exactly. Even shifting from 50/50 to something like 70% upfront and 30% at completion reduces risk significantly.
excessive documentation. Document everything—agreements, conversations, even ideas that aren’t finalized. It keeps everyone aligned and protects you legally. If a case goes to court, the judge only sees the written record. Without documentation, it’s your word against theirs. With documentation, the truth becomes obvious. And third: formality. Instead of casually asking for feedback, create structured checkpoints—forms, written approvals, defined phases. That way, clients have multiple opportunities to raise concerns during the project. If they wait until the end, it becomes clear they had their chances.
That’s actually something I’m going to start implementing.
Glad to hear it. And with that, we should wrap up—though before we do, you mentioned earlier you might play the piano?
Yes! Quick story: I only started playing two years ago. My sister asked me to play at her wedding, and I had just a couple of months to learn. Somehow, with the help of a great teacher, I pulled it off. Let’s do it.
[plays piano]
That was beautiful—and a perfect way to end the episode. Thank you for sharing both the story and the music. To everyone listening, we hope you enjoyed this as much as we did. Until next time—thank you, Matthieu.
Thank you, Morgan. And I guess all tough stories can have a good ending, right?
Excellent final observation. Thank you, everyone. ©2026 Client Horror Stories by Beloved by Clients – Privacy Policy, Terms & Conditions – Resources – Beloved by Clients