"What about… twenty-five?" In three seconds you've cut 17% and told them three things: the quote was padded, there's more where that came from, and you don't quite believe in the number either. Even if this one closes, next year starts at twenty-five and goes down.
—— Worse, you still don't know which "expensive" it was. If there genuinely is no budget, you've given away five thousand and still lost the deal.
"That's fair — expensive compared to what? Is it over what you'd set aside for this, or is it that you can't yet see why it costs this much?"
"I asked someone else, they'd do it for ten" → #3, they're comparing you to a person.
"It just feels like it shouldn't cost that" → #2, they're comparing you to a vague impression, and you owe them a real reference point.
"We overspent on the store refit this year" → #1, don't argue value, move scope and timing.
"Take two off and I'll sign today" → #4, they've already decided to buy.
—— One question, four different roads, and you haven't moved a cent.
Mechanism: a brain never judges a price against its absolute size — it judges it against a reference point. Change the reference and the same number stops being expensive. So "too expensive" reports the result of a comparison, and you can move more than one end of that comparison. The price is only one of them.
Boundary: triage exists so you don't misdiagnose, not so you never discount. Some of category #1 genuinely can't afford it, and the cheapest move there is to cut scope or book them next year — arguing value just burns the relationship. Also, ask the question with real curiosity in your voice. Said flatly, "compared to what?" lands as "do you even know what this costs?"
· Denominator: "You'll run this for at least three years. That's under thirty a day — less than a round of coffees for the counter staff."
· Comparison: "Your real options aren't 'someone cheaper doing the same job.' They're 'hire someone for three months' or 'live with the current one for another two years.' Against those two, how does it look?"
· Baseline (strongest, because the number is theirs): "Who does your print and packaging now? How long does a round take? How many times a year?" Once they've said "the store manager, about a dozen times a year," the thirty thousand has already changed size.
"Thirty covers logo, packaging, signage, menus, and the identity manual — the manual alone is forty pages…" The more you count pages, the more it looks like a per-page product, and per-page products can always be bought cheaper. Quoting hours turns you into a commodity.
"Two questions first: who handles your materials today, and how many times a year does it get redone?"
(Owner: the store manager, a dozen times, two or three days each.)
"So what we're actually comparing isn't thirty versus ten. It's dozens of redos over three years versus getting it right once. Over three years this is under thirty a day. And if you are comparing quotes, I'd compare three things: how many revision rounds, whether you get the source files, and whether you can apply it to a new product yourself. The cheap quote usually differs on all three. If you compare and it still isn't worth it, going with them is a perfectly good call."
Mechanism: the felt size of an amount is relative and re-framable. Put the same money into a different denominator or a different comparison set and its subjective magnitude genuinely changes — not because the person was talked round, but because the basis of judgement was swapped. The cheapest discount is the one you don't give.
Three boundaries. One, a per-day split does nothing for someone who genuinely doesn't have the money; they still write one cheque. And corporate buyers look at the annual total, so per-day framing reads as a sales trick there — use the cost of the status quo instead. Two, don't trust "three tiers, they'll take the middle." The classic decoy-effect evidence (Huber, Payne & Puto, 1982) has repeatedly failed to replicate with real products in recent work (Frederick et al. 2014; Yang & Lynch 2014). Fine as a technique, not as a law. Three, the line is truth: offering a more apt comparison helps them see the whole account; inventing a comparison that doesn't exist is a lie.
· Open with this: "I can't do that price, but I can move other things — which would you rather have?" That turns a single price axis into several variables.
· Things you can trade: scope, payment up front or shorter terms, a longer contract, a named case study, one referral on the record, a later delivery date (move the piece that's hardest on your schedule).
· If you really do cut: say why, in writing, and mark it one-off — "this is twenty-four because we've dropped packaging; the full set is still thirty next time." Without that sentence, the new number is your new list price.
· Three cases where cutting is right: you quoted wrong / the scope genuinely shrank / a strategic first deal (and you got something specific back). Otherwise you're paying for their hesitation out of your own pocket.
You saved three minutes. It cost you two thousand on this deal, a renewal conversation that now starts at twenty-eight, and a referral that comes with "you can haggle him down." And a quieter cost: they'll start wondering where that two thousand came from — how much more is still in there?
"I genuinely can't do that price — there's no padding in the number. But I can move other things. Pay half up front and I'll pull delivery from six weeks to four. Or drop packaging from this round: twenty-four, and we do packaging separately when the new line launches. Which would you rather have?"
—— Three messages at once: the price is real, I want this deal, and concessions get traded. Most people pick one instead of pushing further, because price has stopped being the only axis.
Three mechanisms. One, arithmetic: a discount comes straight out of margin, and the thinner the margin the more absurd the volume needed to make it back. Two, signalling: cutting says "the first number was fiction," which rewards delay and pressure. Three, price is part of the experience — the same thing at a higher price is genuinely experienced as better, so a low price doesn't just earn less, it lowers what they expect of you.
Boundaries. Price-as-quality has a ceiling, and it disappears once quality is verifiable: on repeat-purchase goods and spec-comparable standard parts, a high price just loses you the sale. It is also not a licence to inflate — the placebo work shows expectation shapes experience, not that expensive things are actually better. And there's one case where you should simply walk: when their budget and the quality you can deliver don't match at all. Signing anyway loses twice. "I can't make something at that budget that I'd want my name on" is more dignified than a discount.
· Work out how much volume you can afford to lose: at margin m, raising price by p points lets you lose p ÷ (m + p). At a 40% margin, +10 points means you can shed 20% of volume and break even — far more than most people's fear of churn.
· New customers first, existing ones get a grace period: new quotes take the new rate immediately, current clients get three to six months. That step buys fairness, not money.
· Announce 30–60 days ahead, and let the reason be true: rising costs and added deliverables are widely accepted; "because I'm busy now" is the one that earns resentment.
· Give them one action: "renew for a year now and you keep the old rate." That turns bad news into a decision with a window.
· Watch who leaves: usually the hardest hagglers on the thinnest margins. If it's your best clients, that isn't a price problem, it's a value problem.
A returning client asks, you quote the new number, no explanation. Their reference price is the old one and you gave them no reason — so they don't conclude "rates have gone up," they conclude "he's busy now, so he's squeezing me." An increase judged as opportunism draws retaliation beyond the money: they don't just leave, they talk.
"Heads-up: my rates go up 20% on March 1 — first increase in three years. The reason is that every project now includes two months of post-launch adjustments, which I used to absorb.
You're an existing client, so anything booked before the end of May stays at the old rate; if you want to lock this year in now, we can do that."
—— Attributed to added delivery rather than "I'm in demand," existing clients get a buffer, and there's something they can act on today. The ones who were going to leave still leave — but not feeling fleeced.
Mechanism: people hold a stable intuition about price fairness — customers feel entitled to a reference price, firms feel entitled to a reference profit. So an increase attributed to rising costs (the firm protecting its reference profit) is broadly accepted, while one attributed to booming demand (the firm taking the customer's reference price) is judged unfair, and people will pay real costs to punish it.
Three boundaries. One, a price rise can't fix "it wasn't worth it": if churn is about delivery quality, raising prices only speeds it up. Two, goodwill has a budget — raising repeatedly without adding value spends it in one go; each increase should point at something genuinely new. Three, changing terms mid-contract is the worst ground for fairness: honour what's signed, and let increases apply only to new work and renewals.
No scripts to memorise today. Work out your own numbers first — without them, every concession you make is a guess.