A while ago, my electric lawn mower gave up. Dead battery. Nothing major, just needed replacing – or so I thought.

I brought it to a local repair shop. Smooth process, friendly people. Then I got the standard quote request email, and this sentence caught my eye:

“To prepare this estimate as accurately as possible, we had to partially disassemble your machine.
If you wish to pick it up without the repair, please note it will be returned in disassembled condition.
If you prefer to receive it fully reassembled, the extra labour hours will be charged accordingly.”

And boom. That line hit me – hard. Because my first reaction was:
“Wait, what? You want me to pay extra just to get my own mower back in one piece? What kind of service is that?”

But then it started to sink in.

What if they apply that logic to every customer?
They’re not being rude. They’re being efficient.
They’re protecting their time. They’re setting boundaries.
They’re making sure their “free service” doesn’t end up being their biggest cost.

And that’s when it clicked.

The real problem… was me!

I’m the guy who does put everything back together – for free.
I’m the one who spends hours prepping, researching, writing plan A, B, sometimes even plan C.
I’m the one who says “no worries, I’ll figure it out” – even when no one asked me to.
I’m the one who delivers the project plus the invisible extras. All of it.

And all too often, those extras take up more time than the actual paid job. Now don’t get me wrong. I love my job. I care deeply about my work. But that care comes with a cost. A cost I don’t charge, but still pay. In sleep. In focus. In creative headspace. Sometimes even in motivation.

And the worst part?

By doing this over and over again, I’ve created an environment where people start to expect it. Or worse: where it becomes the norm. The baseline. And that’s not on them.

That’s on me.

Because I allowed it. Because I kept saying “sure, I’ll take care of it.” Because I kept showing up with more than was asked.
That’s the part the lawn mower repair made painfully clear.

I’ve built a stage where people – clients, friends, collaborators – are invited to push me further. Not because they’re taking advantage. But because I left the door wide open.

So now, I’m actively working on closing that door just a little.

Not to give less. But to give smarter.
To give in ways that are sustainable. That honour the craft and the human behind it.