The Client Said “It’s Just a Quick Edit” and Now I’m in Hour Seven

By Ken Hollow, freelance prisoner of pastel purgatory

The text came in at 8:14 a.m., right when I was pretending to do my morning routine and not just staring at my phone in bed.

“Hey, it’s just a quick edit.”

From Nana Vix.

Those six words are the freelance equivalent of “We need to talk.” You know it’s not going to be quick. You know “edit” is code for “start over but politely.” And you know deep down that you’re about to lose the entire day to something that wasn’t even in your to-do list.

🔹 The Setup

The original post was done. Scheduled. Approved. I had moved on emotionally, which is rare for me and my attachment issues with my own work.

It was a carousel about “Energy Flow in Your Workspace” — pastel gradients, whimsical captions, subtle witchy undertones, exactly what Nana’s audience eats up.

She’d loved it. Or so I thought.

Then Mercury entered some sort of retrograde shadow period (don’t ask me, I didn’t pass Astrology 101), and suddenly the palette no longer “aligned with her solar plexus intentions.”

“Just a quick edit.”

🔹 Phase One: Denial

8:15 a.m. — I think, Cool, maybe she just wants a font swap.

I open Canva. I change the font. I send it back.

8:23 a.m. — “Yes, but actually, could we try adjusting the hue so it resonates more with the crescent moon energy we’re channeling this week?”

That’s not a quick edit. That’s color theory therapy.

🔹 Phase Two: The Scope Creep

By 9:04 a.m., we’d moved from “change the hue” to:

• Reworking the imagery so it “breathes more”
• Making the text “float, but in a grounded way”
• Adding a glow effect “like the aura of someone who just had a good cry”

I start to suspect we’re no longer editing the post. We’re spiritually rebirthing it.

🔹 Phase Three: Existential Bargaining

10:37 a.m. — I try reasoning with her. “If we shift too much, the brand consistency will…”

She cuts me off with, “The brand is the energy, Ken.”

I have no counterargument for that. None.

🔹 Phase Four: The Full Rebuild

By noon, I’m:

• Recoloring every element in pastel shades that look identical to me but apparently scream entirely different emotional vibrations
• Rewriting captions so they “speak directly to the heart chakra”
• Resizing text boxes for the fifth time because “the words need space to breathe”

I glance at my task tracker and realize I have accomplished exactly one thing today: surrender.

🔹 Phase Five: The Psychic Feedback Loop

At 1:48 p.m., she says, “Almost there, just add a touch more ‘soft lunar melancholy’ to the background.”

What the hell is soft lunar melancholy? Is it a gradient? A vibe? A new indie band?

I throw a pale blue overlay on slide four and hope for the best.

🔹 Phase Six: Emotional Collapse

By 3:32 p.m., the edit has taken longer than making the original post from scratch. My coffee’s gone cold. My will to live is lukewarm.

She sends a voice note: “Yes! This is perfect. I knew it was just a quick edit.”

And here’s the thing — she’s happy. The audience will probably be happy. I will get paid. Technically, this is a win.

🔹 Lessons From Seven Hours in Pastel Jail

1. “Quick” Means Nothing — Especially if your client’s sense of time is based on planetary movements.
2. Define ‘Edit’ in Your Contracts — I’m updating mine to include a planetary clause.
3. Stockpile Patience — You can’t rush a process that’s tied to moon phases.
4. Accept the Inevitability — Some edits will always become full rebuilds. Budget for it emotionally.

🔹 Final Thoughts (Written Between Revision Notes)

Nana’s happy. The post is live. My eyes now see in twelve indistinguishable shades of pink.

People think freelancing means freedom. Sometimes it just means you get to choose which hill you die on — today, mine was “soft lunar melancholy.”

Tomorrow, it’ll be something else. Probably glitter.

Ken Hollow, full-time freelance designer, part-time astrologically compliant content surgeon