How I Got Fired By
My Interior Designer

By NANCY KEATES
April 17, 2007

I have been fired by an interior designer.

Here's what happened: Our architect -- Dave Giulietti of Giulietti/Schouten of Portland, Ore. -- casually mentioned one day he'd met a designer whose style might suit ours; the portfolio on her Web site was gorgeous; it seemed simple enough -- for a $90 an hour she would help make our new home's interior beautiful.

About a month ago a reader named Jan Herwick posted a comment on the urging the use of an interior designer, saying it was well worth the cost. "A professional designer will bring years of planning to the table, incorporate your furniture and lifestyle into the design plan, review the needs of you and your family now and into the future, and will find solutions to thorny function and flow problems within each of the room's envelope," she wrote. "Color, style, lighting, proportion of furnishings, layout and storage are all some of the elements of good planning for a successful and beautiful result -- and can be done on paper prior to the first nail."

What Ms.Herwick didn't mention was that some interior designers do more than just help with the materials, colors and furnishings; they also literally design the interior, which means taking over the drawings of all the cabinets, the ceilings, the moldings, and more. They decide where the pantry will be placed and which way the patio doors open; they will advise the architect if columns are aligned and where windows should be. When working with a designer, it is crucial to clarify just what the work scope will include in the beginning -- and how that fits with what the architect will do.

My first meeting with the designer went well. I showed her the pages from magazines and books I'd photocopied and she seemed to understand my taste. She looked over Mr. Giulietti's preliminary sketches and appeared enthusiastic about the project.

Next she sat in on a meeting with Mr. Giulietti. (Beware: having two people at a meeting means paying two hourly fees -- a mistake I made twice). Mr. Giulietti didn't show annoyance at her input. And I was grateful to have someone noticing things my untrained eye might miss.

Even the third meeting was great. She came to our house and pointed out what she liked, didn't like and where she could see pieces of furniture and artwork in our future home. It didn't offend me that she wasn't keen on our side tables and that she thought our leather sofa and chairs should go in an office rather than anywhere more public. That's why I hired her: to help me pick what would work.

But looking back, I see there were several hints of what was to come. When I mentioned going to stores to look at materials or fixtures, she said she usually chose a few samples and then the client picked from her selection. She urged me not to reuse all the kitchen appliances we'd bought just a few years ago during our remodel because she preferred ranges to ovens and stovetops. As she looked over Mr. Giulietti's preliminary interior sketches, she focused on the lack of dividing features, such as columns or cabinets, in the family room -- something Mr. Giulietti said he would have taken care of in later sketches. And she agreed shutters would be nice but she would only work with "real shutters" -- meaning they actually shut.

Then we had a really bad meeting. It was at her office and it started with five quick sketches she'd done to rearrange the kitchen. None of the five made sense to me: either the pantry opened out to a hallway or the island blocked an easy passage through the room. I also didn't like any of the magazine clips of rooms and colors she'd torn out nor her suggestions to use hurricane lamps, ebonized floors and a wooden table with a basin for the sink in the powder room. When Mr. Giulietti showed me how he'd switched around the kitchen in his new drawing, I emailed her that I liked what he'd done and wanted to leave it at that.

Worried about the cost of the project, I asked about her policy: did she charge clients every time she read and wrote emails? Would I pay for every phone conversation (as I would with a lawyer)? Call it ignorance, but I didn't know the standard procedures and it seemed prudent to ask. I wasn't sure if she would be doing work our architect would have otherwise done --like the kitchen redesign.

"You will end up paying me about $40,000 for this project," she said when she called to respond. When I worried aloud that might be too much, she became shrill. "That's what you would pay the plumber for a job this size," she said. "Am I not worth as much as a plumber? I have to earn a living too." She told me she couldn't work well if she thought the clock was always ticking; I understood that, but I had to ask so I knew what I was paying.

It started to seem like it wasn't going to be much fun working with a designer. I stopped looking through magazines and books for ideas. Every time I emailed her photos of floors or tiles I liked, she would ask me why I was sending them to her.

"You need to lose her," my friend Samantha said over dinner one night. Samantha, who designed her own house with her architect husband Jon, offered her assistance selecting materials and finishes. I told Samantha that this might be a good opportunity for me to learn to assert myself -- to stand up to what felt to me like the designer's attempt to bully. This designer did beautiful work and I wanted her help.

Still, the overlap issue was bugging me, so I decided to ask Mr. Giulietti what role he thought an interior designer plays in the design process -- and whether she would be duplicating what he would have done. He responded that interior designers often become more involved than just working with materials and fixtures. On the other hand, he said there are a few things that she would be doing that he would have otherwise done, such as drafting the interior elevations and preparing the schedules for when we would need what. While there would be some reduction in his scope of work and fee, it would still add more fees to that process. He suggested we all clearly define the scope of her work to eliminate any duplication.

The next day an email arrived from the designer, saying she'd been looking at Mr. Giuletti's latest drawings and had some changes to suggest. She also asked if we could put a system in place with Mr. Giulietti for tracking little changes she made and a process for approval of her suggestions (if she should run them by him first, then me, or vice versa).

That sounded like a good idea. Since I had a meeting scheduled with Mr. Giulietti later that week anyway, I emailed the designer and asked her to hold off on any more work until he and I could talk about it first. Instead, she sent over a set of changes she'd made.

When the designer called a few days later to say she didn't want to work with me anymore, she told me there was a "mountain of trust" she needed that was lacking in our relationship. She said she would be sending me a bill for $1,401 for March -- including the hours she spent making the changes after I'd asked her to hold off.

Perhaps my trust was lacking. Perhaps my concern about duplication was insulting. Perhaps we just didn't click. But I now know to ask a designer upfront to outline the work she plans to do. And again, to get an estimate of what the job will cost before I hire someone. Our house may be less stunning than it would have been with her help. But -- for better or for worse -- it will be more the fruit of my imagination.

Write to Nancy Keates at nancy.keates@wsj.com