Good, Fast, Cheap

Pick two — or just ask really nicely

When you hear the word “turnaround” what do you think? For me it’s “turnaround time,” as in, how fast do I need to deliver image files to a client. I’m a commercial photographer, and most of my clients are corporate marketing departments, agencies and the occasional editorial publication. What do they all have in common? Every one of them wants their pictures asap.

My proposals outline how long it will take for me to deliver image files. If I’m especially busy I give clients a heads up that it may be longer than usual. Likewise, if the schedule’s light and I’m able to deliver faster, I absolutely will. But I want to underpromise and overdeliver rather than the opposite, and this tends to be one of the few places I’m able to reliably do that. But not always. 

I’ve been especially busy this week. As I write this on Thursday night (don’t judge) I’m resting my feet after a big day photographing for a construction company. I’ve shot every day this week, in fact, for four different clients. 2024 hasn’t been a banner year, but this week has been good. Too good, in fact. 

At times like these, I focus more than usual on turnaround. Being busy is a good problem to have, but it’s still a problem. When I’m onsite for Client A all day I can’t also be at my desk retouching images for Client B. 

When it rains it pours. Some days I’m on set before breakfast and home after dinner. Other days I’m at my desk editing for so long that when I eventually do stand up my feet don’t function. In terms of this job being active or sedentary, it’s all or nothing. 

When it’s “all” it’s hard to find the time to meet my typical turnaround. And because I try to take care of my customers as professionally as possible, I give them a heads up that there will be delays, inviting them to tell me quickly which files they want so I can retouch and deliver them before I become unavailable.

And yet…

You know that phrase “Lack of planning on your part does not constitute an emergency on my part?” Well, you and I are the only ones, apparently.

I know shit happens, but I find it frustrating when a customer sits on proofs for several weeks and then sends an email at, say, 4:58 p.m. this afternoon, “Hey, can we have these by Monday morning?”

That’s the Monday that begins, depending on how you look at it, two minutes from now. The Monday that is the very day I already told them I’d be out on location and unavailable. But sure, I’ll work this weekend to turnaround their pictures. Because shit happens (see above) and that’s what good customer service looks like. 

But shouldn’t my customers have to pay for that service? Aye, there’s the rub. 

No matter what they say when you ask them during the proposal, no matter what they sign off on, when push comes to shove everybody wants everything right freaking now.

You know who has it really rough? Wedding photographers. I will preface this by saying I’m no expert. But I know a few of you, and I have heard from others on social media, and y’all seem to be perpetually swamped with retouching. Backlogged, brides waiting months for photos. And my understanding is it’s because you’re retouching 500+ files. That takes a really, really, really long time. 

I’ve always thought wedding photographers should build it into their bids that they’ll retouch, say, 50 files. Or 25. Or maybe even 99. But dang, not 500. 

I eventually realized, though, that the problem is the competition. If they’re offering 500 retouched files, fewer brides will choose you if you only deliver a fraction of that.

I mentioned my idea to a colleague just today, in fact, and he suggested the long wait time is deliberate, designed to build anticipation. Makes sense. If you’ve been waiting to see your wedding photos, when the time finally comes you’re bound to be thrilled. And that makes selling you profitable prints and albums even easier. So maybe the wait is part of the plan, in which case kudos to you, wedding photographers, for social engineering this bit of strategery. I’m impressed. But I still think you should retouch fewer files and tie that deliverable to the cost. 

See, the thing is, turnaround time is part of the service we’re providing. It’s not incidental, it literally is part of the service. Some brides/clients/companies/agencies will pay more in order to get what they want fast. For that reason we spell out the timeline in the proposal, so when the client changes the scope it corresponds to a change in the cost. 

In other words… Good, fast, cheap. Pick two. 

This is all so much easier said than done—especially if you’re too nice for your own good, which apparently I am.

Against my better judgment, I’m a people pleaser. I have long operated under the assumption that if I don’t make my clients happy at every turn they’ll dump me unceremoniously. So I try to avoid nickel-and-diming them and inevitably throw in all sorts of additional services at no additional charge. Want me to come over and scope out the location in advance? Sure. Want me to retrieve and resend those files I delivered last year, and do it by the end of the day? No problem. Want a little more retouching on that portrait? My pleasure.

It’s the give ‘em the pickle strategy. But I’m not sure if it’s good customer service or bad business practice.

I’ve noticed that sometimes a client will ask if I can deliver their files in a hurry—by tomorrow morning, let’s say. So I’ll do that and send a link that (coincidentally) tracks downloads. And wouldn’t you know it, that thing I worked late into the night to deliver by morning didn’t get downloaded for another two days. 

It is for these clients that rush fees were invented. 

Do they really need it tomorrow or do they just want it tomorrow? As I sometimes say to clients who give me too-long shot lists, “When everything is high priority, nothing is.”

So how do you prioritize? How do you separate the needs from the wants? I think you’re supposed to do it with rush fees. 

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My fellow oldheads will remember a day before Amazon when ordering from a catalog meant exorbitant shipping fees as well as—you’re not gonna believe this—a 6- to 8-week turnaround time. 

We’ve gotten soft. The other night I ordered a robot vacuum (because while I am lazy and unclean, I am nothing if not aspirational). I placed the Amazon order at 9:07pm. The delivery estimate was mere hours away: between 4am and 8am. Sure enough I awoke to a package at my door, a dark-of-night delivery confirmation in my email.

When this is the new standard for turnaround, how hard can it be to get some dang pictures in a day or two? 

Our expectations are incredibly elevated. And Jeff Bezos is a billionaire because he knows turnaround is everything. But, unlike me, he doesn’t do it for free. 

I’m trying to get it through my thick skull that it’s the effort that constitutes the great customer service, not that the service is free. What counts is getting it done, coming in clutch, delivering quickly. The fee must not be confused with the service. 

The Ritz Carlton goes over the top with service, and your room costs four times the two-star down the block. Or the Michelin-starred restaurant that blows your mind, even though the salmon is $70. In each case you leave happy and praising the experience.¹

The service is the service, the cost is the cost. Why is this so difficult for me?

The underlying worry here is that I will annoy my customers, demonstrate to them they can do better elsewhere, convince them that my amazing fish filet simply isn’t worth $70. 

I wonder if imposter syndrome is costing me money? If I felt worthy of that fee, I’m sure I’d have an easier time charging it. 

It used to be much easier to charge rush fees. In the analog era we took our film to the lab which couldn’t physically process it faster than two hours. And at that rate we’d pay them double and pass along the cost. The rule of thumb, as I was taught, is a 50% rush for two-day turnaround, 100% rush for next-day turnaround, 200% rush for same day turnaround. Is this what you learned too?

In 2024, when the “cost” of a rush is simply me being late for dinner, or missing part of my weekend, how do I pass along that cost? Even if I did, what exactly do I mark up? Is it the retouching fee? The licensing? Surely not the entire shoot?

This was a longwinded way of asking for advice, dear reader. I’d like to hear from my fellow photographers, from illustrators and writers, from anyone who delivers anything to clients on a deadline. Do you charge rush fees? Should I? Do clients tolerate such fees differently today than they used to? What should I do? 

I don’t mind going above and beyond—or at least trying to. I just wish I got paid for it. 

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1. The opposite is also true. Being nickel and dimed sucks. I remember once ordering $6 nachos at a football game. I asked for jalapenos and was presented with a tiny dish containing four or five slices. “$1.50” the worker said. I replied that there was no way in hell I was giving her $1.50 for five slices of jalapeno. It was a standoff. A lesser person would have tossed the nachos cheese-first into the owner’s box. I instead walked away grumbling. Had they priced it smartly, I might have thought $7.50 was a bit much for nachos but, unlike with the extra buck and a half add-on, I wouldn’t have wanted to burn down the building.