“I’m going to pay you double your rate”

It’s big. It’s hairy. It’s coming down the stairs to smoosh your face into the floor.

It’s the Pricing Gormagon! 

It’s the Pricing Gormagon!

People are asking me about pricing a lot lately and I understand why: we all find talking about price horrifying, right?

Especially to clients.

Let me guess: your palms get prickly and damp. Your heart starts racing like an overexcited vibrator. Your breathing gets shallow, like you’re drowning in air. And you want to run like you’re covered in jam and there are 1,000 angry wasps after you.

Your brain starts racing through all the reasons why you’re not good enough to charge that much.

It remembers all those “helpful” people who tell you can’t possibly charge “that much”.

And that pink squishy mush between your ears makes you justify those prices… and finds those reasons wanting.

Well, I have two things to say to your pink squishy mush:

  1. Being okay with talking about pricing takes practice. So start practising.
  2. You are nowhere near charging “too much”. And I have a story to illustrate it.

This weekend is the first UK Breaking Bread Mastermind. I am hosting with Misty. I am at the (stunning) venue right now.

And I have two lambs and three chickens at home in The Dingle. (The cats are on holiday.)

I have searched and panicked and struggled to find someone to take care of the lambs… and finally I got a call from a lovely young woman yesterday.

She’s stepping in today, and visiting twice a day over the weekend, and on Monday morning.

She’s checking the hens, taking the lambs to and from the paddock, making sure they have food and water, making up lamb milk and feeding them, and – because she’s lovely – watering the plants in my greenhouse.

For all this, guess how much she was going to charge me?

£50.

Fifty notes.

Because she doesn’t charge for her travel time and she’ll only be here for about half an hour a visit.

I’m paying her double that, and giving her a copy of my book.

Because I adore my woolly and feathered friends (and my vegetable buddies) and I want her to want to look after them. I don’t want her rushing. Or cutting corners. Or any of that.

And I still think £100 is cheap.

It’s not very often you’ll get a client actively wanting to pay you more than you’re asking, but it does happen. It’s happened to me. And I do it to others, sometimes.

So ask yourself: are you happy with how much income – and profit – you’re making?

Would you like more?

Raise your prices. Just by 10%. Nobody will notice or care, and if they do, the price rise will make up for it.

Then get yourself on my email list for a daily dose of business know-how.

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About the Author

Vicky Fraser

Please do share any articles from this site in part or in full — as long as you leave all links intact, give credit to the author, and include a link to this website and the following bio. Vicky is a gin-quaffing, pole-dancing, trapeze-swinging copywriter who writes about the perils and joys of writing, velociraptor training, and running a small business. She writes this stuff on her websites vickyfraser.com and cookiesforbreakfast.co.uk. She’s the author of one book (with two more in utero) and teaches small business owners how to write copy that sells, and how to be more fecking interesting. You can follow her on FacebookInstagramTwitterPinterest, and LinkedIn.

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