01
The start of it
The brief that was a conversation in a driveway
Forty minutes of good talk, a lot of nodding, and nothing written down except a price. Both of you leave certain you agreed on the same website. Neither of you has a document that would settle it, and the first time anybody finds out is when something is built.
When it happensAt the very start, before any money moves, which is also the only cheap moment to fix it.
What it costs youEverything downstream. Every argument later in this list is really this one, arriving late and with a deposit already paid.
02
The money
A deposit with nothing written against it
Half up front is an ordinary and reasonable way to work. What is not ordinary is a deposit that does not name what it buys. A deposit should correspond to a thing and a date — a draft of these pages, by that Friday — rather than to a stage of the relationship.
When it happensUsually within a day or two of agreeing, often before the brief exists in writing.
What it costs youYour leverage, and your sense of where you are. With nothing named, there is no date on which anybody is late and no moment at which you are entitled to look at something.
03
The reveal
The first draft, which is a template with your logo on it
It is not that templates are wrong. Most good sites start from one. It is that the first thing you are shown is often the only thing you will be shown, and if it arrives as a flat picture rather than as a page you can open, you cannot tell which parts are yours and which parts came with it.
When it happensTwo to four weeks in, at the one meeting that decides most of what the site will be.
What it costs youThe chance to say no cheaply. By this point the money is spent, the enthusiasm has gone out of it, and most people say it is fine because the alternative is starting again.
04
The stall
The words, which were always your job and nobody said so
This is the most common reason a build stops, and it is nobody's fault in particular. The studio assumed you would send the text for the services. You assumed writing the website was what you were paying for. Six weeks pass in which neither side wants to be the one chasing.
When it happensRight after the design is signed off, and it can run for months.
What it costs youThe launch date, and usually the goodwill. A job that stalls on content is remembered by both sides as the other one going quiet.
05
The squeeze
The revisions that ran out
Two rounds of changes was in the quote and it sounded generous. Then it turns out a round is whatever the studio says a round is, and three separate emails on a Tuesday were one round or three depending on who you ask. Nobody defined it because at the start nobody expected to need it.
When it happensLate, when the site is nearly right and the remaining changes are the ones you care most about.
What it costs youThe last ten per cent, which is the part a visitor actually notices. Most sites that read as nearly-finished are a build that ran out of rounds.
06
The drift
A launch date that moved twice and then stopped being mentioned
It slips a fortnight, which is fine. Then it slips again without a new date attached, which is the part that matters. A date that moves to a new date is a project. A date that moves to no date has quietly become whenever everybody gets round to it.
When it happensAny time after the deposit, and it compounds with every row above it.
What it costs youA season. Trades and local businesses have months that matter, and a site that arrives in July having been promised for spring has missed the thing it was built for.
07
The end of it
The handover that never quite happened
The site goes live, the final invoice is paid, and everybody is pleased. What was never done is the dull part: the domain, the hosting, the platform login and the Google profile put in your name, written down, and proved to work. A year later you want one price changed and nobody can remember who holds what.
When it happensAt the end, when both sides have stopped paying attention and the job feels finished.
What it costs youYour ability to leave, or to change anything without permission. That one has a page of its own, because it is the most expensive of the seven to unpick afterwards.