ISSUE № 1 · TUESDAY, MAY 5, 2026
Hi there — and welcome to the very first issue of The Reframe.
Today's reframe is one I've been sitting with for months. A firm owner sent me a question that on the surface was about software, and underneath was about something else entirely.
A firm owner sent me this:
"I wish I could tell my bill pay client they need to use Ramp and follow our standard process. Instead we keep catering to them — using QBO for bill pay even though nothing works, reverting to email for approvals, helping them set up vendor verification. The whole thing is exhausting."
I asked her what was holding her back. She said:
"They're older folks. Bank account got hacked recently, so they have trust issues. Admin is disorganized. Communication is always a challenge."
Translation: the client is hard, and I'm afraid to push.
So I asked the question I always ask first: how bad would your financial situation be hurt if you let this client go?
Her answer: "They’re my biggest CAS account at $1,500/month. I'm signing up new clients but not at the speed I want. I can't let go of this cashflow."
Here's where most consultants would coach her on transition plans for Ramp, scripts for handling difficult clients, communication frameworks. I get it — those things help.
But the real reframe is this: the $1,500 isn't $1,500.
When a client is costing your team their sanity, eating your headspace, generating constant friction — that monthly fee is mathematically real and emotionally fictional. You're paying for it in everything other than dollars.
So I told her what I'd actually do:
Give them an ultimatum with a real date. "We really want to keep you as a client. Here's what we need: by January 1, all clients are moving to Ramp. We'd love for you to make that transition with us."
Be prepared for them to leave. Have the math on what $1,500/month looks like replaced by three $500/month right-fit clients. (Hint: it's better, because $500/month right-fit clients don't cost you mental tax.)
Let your team know the conversation is happening. They've been carrying this for you.
She wrote back: "I'm working on my boundary issue. I knew this wasn't a good fit from the start, but kept dragging my feet. I don't know what I'm afraid of — it's not like I'll end up homeless with my kids on the street tomorrow."
That's the line. Right there. "It's not like I'll end up homeless."
Most of the boundaries we can't bring ourselves to hold? The worst case isn't homelessness. It's a temporary cashflow gap that we have full skills to fill. It's three months of light hustle. It's an awkward conversation that resolves in a week.
The fear is wildly disproportionate to the actual stakes. And once you can name what you're actually afraid of, the path opens up.
The boundary is the service. Sometimes the service to your team. Sometimes the service to the right-fit clients you'll have time for once you let go of the wrong-fit ones. Sometimes the service to yourself, who deserves to not dread Mondays.
—
The boundary is the service.
— Rebecca
P.S. I tweeted this years ago and I think about it constantly:
"There has literally never been a time that the initial red flag in the first interaction with a client didn't end up being an accurate depiction of how working with them would be. Go with your gut."
The work of holding a boundary with the client you already have is hard. The work of not signing them in the first place is easier — but it requires trusting the small, quiet signal you got at the very first interaction. The signal that said something is off. Most of us override that signal because we want the revenue, or we want to be liked, or we don't trust ourselves yet.
Forgive yourself for the wrong-fit clients you have right now. And next time? Listen sooner.
Got a boundary you can't hold?
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