Generous, not gullible: a true story

The client suddenly acted surprised: “I thought all the photos were included.”

And yet, from the very first contact, he had clearly visited my website where my pricing is transparent, detailed, and publicly available. He knew exactly what he wanted and directly requested a specific package.

Fortunately, I kept all our written exchanges. In black and white, I confirmed to him that this package included 10 HD digital files to download, chosen from a carefully edited online gallery of at least 200 images. I also made it clear that he could expand his collection by purchasing additional photos, just like many of my clients do.

He couldn’t possibly have misunderstood. And let’s be honest, he works with visual professionals on a regular basis. In his executive role, he knows perfectly well that no professional photographer delivers an entire gallery of files without conditions. That’s simply not how this industry works.

But he played dumb. Feigned confusion. As if something clear and contractual had suddenly become ambiguous all in an effort to push my limits.

One little comment stuck with me:

During the session, he mentioned they had done a photo shoot last year with another professional photographer.

And that made me pause.

"If it had gone so well… why didn’t they book that same photographer again this year?"

Very quickly, the tone shifted.

He started quoting articles from French consumer law. Accused me of “deceptive commercial practices.”

He implied he might report me to the DGCCRF (the French fraud and consumer protection office).

But I know the legal framework I operate within. I know French regulations, my obligations, and my rights. And most importantly: I respect the law.

My prices are clearly displayed on my website, in multiple places.

Each package is detailed with what it includes and what it doesn’t.

There is no ambiguity, no hidden clause.

In fact, during the entire month leading up to the session, we exchanged multiple times. And like I always do, I clearly restated the content of the chosen package especially since this was an international client.

When working with non-French clients, I’m particularly thorough: I make sure everything is explained, pricing, what's included, optional add-ons.

It’s all written. It’s all transparent. It’s all documented.

And I follow this same clear process with every client, always and have done so for over 13 years.

So when someone tries to weaponize legal language to pressure me, I don’t panic.

I stand firm, and I restate the facts, calmly, and clearly.

Because I know I’m fully within my rights.

And I also know how to recognize a manipulative bluff when I see one.

When the legal argument doesn’t work, the tactic shifts: “The photos aren’t that great.” “No one’s really looking in the right direction.” "A bit disappointing, considering the price.”

In other words: if I won’t give in, then let’s question the quality of the work.

It’s a classic technique meant to make me doubt myself, feel guilty, and hopefully offer more to “make up for it.”

Except... this same client told me a few days earlier that he loved the photos.

And later (during yet another manipulation attempt) he’ll repeat that they love them all, and that they just can’t decide which ones to pick.

But I know the truth.

I know the care, the energy, the presence I bring to every session.

I know the heartfelt, thoughtful reviews I’ve received from people who genuinely value honest, emotional storytelling.

And I also know he visited my website (he found me on Google, after all) and liked my portfolio.

So why now this sudden discomfort with a style he clearly appreciated?

Lifestyle photography isn’t about perfection.

It’s about truth. Presence. Real life.

I don’t pose people like statues. I don’t ask children to smile on cue.

I let the moment unfold. That’s my approach. That’s what I offer.

And I’ve stayed true to that style. Always.

He didn’t question it until the moment he wanted more than what he paid for.

So no, I won’t justify myself.

My style speaks for itself.

When the direct approach fails, the manipulator shifts gears. The tone softens. Almost friendly.

The client suddenly sounds more “human”: “Maybe we can find some common ground?” “It’s for my children, you understand...”

When force doesn’t work, they try the soft method sprinkled with guilt.

He brings up his kids, their attachment to memories, says they can’t choose…

And gently implies that surely, I wouldn’t delete the photos they don’t select.

But this isn’t kindness. It’s a classic manipulation tactic.

It’s about tapping into my empathy, my emotional intelligence as a woman and a mother in the hope that I’ll let my guard down, give more, without him having to ask directly.

But I’ve learned, over time and through life.

I’ve learned that being kind doesn’t mean surrendering what matters.

You can be human. You can be sensitive, generous and still hold firm boundaries.

And in this case, I saw the game.

I named it. And I didn’t play.

And this is the moment where a line was crossed.

The client realized he wouldn’t be able to manipulate me. His ego kicked back in and in trying to regain control, he made his biggest mistake:

He admitted in writing that he had used an AI-generated script to automatically download the entire gallery without any permission.

When I calmly pointed out that this was an illegal act and a clear violation of my intellectual property, he attempted to justify it: “It’s just low-resolution files, only to help us with the selection.” “There’s nothing on the gallery that says we’re not allowed to download them.” 

But no.

Extracting files via an automated tool even watermarked, even low-res is a serious breach of trust, of contract, and of the law.

And the most important part?

He admitted it in writing.

In any legal setting, professionals would quickly identify two facts:

He is a recognized expert in training, negotiation, and corporate communication at a global level by his own career credentials.

He knowingly bypassed a secured platform to retrieve images he never paid for.

The case would be crystal clear.

And I have no doubt the law would side with me.

At this point, I made a clear decision:

I ended all discussion.

I deleted the gallery.

And I informed him that any further communication must now go through legal channels via his lawyer.

End of story.

Last year, another family used a different tactic: Google review blackmail. They claimed to be unhappy with the images, yet asked for double the number of files in exchange for a "positive review."

I simply replied: "If you’re not satisfied, I’ll delete the images and refund you."

Miraculously, they chose to pay for ten additional photos. And unsurprisingly, they never left a review.

(Which is fine. I don’t chase stars. In fact, only five-star reviews can look suspicious to algorithms. My goal isn’t perfection. It’s authenticity.)