The client we said no to (and should've sooner)

Because “Why should I pay for you to get intelligent?” is not a business model.

Every marketer has a story. This is one of ours filed under “early signs we should’ve read louder.”

It began, as most modern business fables do, with a pitch call. A founder from an emerging tech category, buzzword-friendly and strategy-averse, came in fast and confident. Their vision? Ambitious. Their expectations? Immediate. Their respect for process? Optional.

Somewhere between “we need a full-funnel strategy” and “can you start tomorrow?” came the now-immortal line: “Why should I pay for you to get intelligent?”

It’s since become an inside joke, a Slack channel, and a red flag we no longer ignore. Let’s rewind.

Spilling the Tea

An emerging-tech founder had reached out, referred by someone we respected, operating in a sector that was still defining itself. A lot of moving parts. Exactly the kind of complexity we thrive on at Tailwind.

So we did what we always do. Came in with a clear plan: one that outlined ecosystem research, ICP mapping, competitor benchmarking, strategic messaging, and a phased GTM approach. Strategy-first, not just campaign-led. We assumed we were on the same page.

We weren’t. On our very first call, the founder cut us off mid-sentence and said: “Why should I pay for you to get intelligent?”

At first, we thought it was a misunderstanding. Surely, they didn’t mean we shouldn’t spend time understanding the product or the market? But they did. Apparently, any time spent “getting context” wasn’t real work. The strategy was supposed to be pre-installed. Insight? Optional. Discovery? A luxury.

We stayed patient. We explained that in B2B, real outcomes come from foundational alignment, not shortcuts. The founder nodded. Deadlines were redrawn. Slack channels were created. We proceeded, cautiously optimistic.

But over the following weeks, the disconnect grew louder.

But once the work began, reality hit: Half-baked briefs. Ambiguous asks. An approval loop that required the stars to align and the founder’s mood to be just right. The design team began naming files like they were seasons of a never-ending TV drama: Final_Final_v6_NotThisOne_EditedByCEO_2.pptx

Slack messages became the only constant—an always-on thread of new asks, shifting priorities, and non-decisions. Every project moved at once. And none moved forward.

Across two months, the number of open threads outnumbered completed tasks. If we’d printed them, we could’ve built a bridge from Mumbai to Singapore and still had enough material for a slide deck titled “This Is Why Processes Exist.”

The work wasn’t chaotic. It was suspended. Held hostage by “one last review” or “we’ll circle back after we realign internally.” Somewhere in all of this, it became painfully clear: Our time was not being respected. And neither was our process.

So we stepped away. No dramatic exit. No scathing feedback. Just a clear note saying we didn’t think this partnership would be productive, and we wished them well.

What it Taught Us

The decision to step away wasn’t emotional, it was operational and overdue.

We didn’t walk because things got hard. We walked because the fundamentals were never aligned. When a client resists discovery, they’ll resist direction. When they undercut processes, they’ll eventually undermine outcomes. When they treat your time like it’s flexible, they’ll start treating your work the same way.

A long-term and very senior client once told us mid-project, “You need to learn to say no more often. You’re too nice.”

We remember that moment clearly, because they weren’t criticising our work. They were asking us to protect it. Not every opportunity needs to be salvaged. Some need to be released with clarity and without conflict. That’s what we did.

Over time, we’ve also learned to recognise the opposite of a red flag. The quiet signals that tell you: this partnership will work. They’re not always flashy. They don’t come with perfect decks or dramatic launches. But you feel the difference right away.

A Quiet No, A Clearer Yes

Walking away doesn’t feel heroic. There’s no applause. No performance. Just a quiet moment where you realise: this isn’t going to work and that’s okay.

It’s not about being right. It’s about protecting what you know is required to do good work. The time. The headspace. The process.

Most importantly, the people behind the work.

We don’t regret saying no. We only wish we’d said it sooner.

This article is penned by Rachita Vaid, Founder, GainTailwind Consulting.

Disclaimer: The article features the opinion of the author and does not necessarily reflect the stance of the publication.