Client Deducted Bank Fees From Payment? The Leek Bunch

2026-11-03

The leeks are €2.40 a bunch. You know because you are holding one, and your phone is in your other hand, and the stallholder is waiting.

It is Saturday, 9:15, the farmers' market. You opened your banking app only to check you had enough for the weekend shop. Instead you see it: a transfer from the agency in Rotterdam. The one for the brand illustrations. The one you invoiced three weeks ago.

The amount is €1,182.50.

Your invoice said €1,200.

You stand there between the carrots and the sourdough and do the sum twice. Seventeen euros fifty. Gone somewhere between their bank and yours.

The small number that isn't small

It is not about the money, you tell yourself. It's seventeen euros. You have spent more on a bad coffee and a worse sandwich.

But your stomach has already tightened, and it knows something your head is still denying. It is not the seventeen euros. It is the question of what happens next.

If you write to them, you will be the freelancer who argues about pocket change. If you say nothing, you will be the freelancer who quietly absorbs it. And the next time, and the time after that, because now they know.

You pay for the leeks. You forget the potatoes. You walk home with a bag that feels heavier than it should.

Three drafts before lunch

At the kitchen table you open the email. You write: Hi Joris, I noticed the payment was slightly short.

Too apologetic. Slightly. As if it's your mistake.

You delete it. You write: Per our agreement, the full invoice amount is due, and bank charges are not deductible.

Too stiff. You sound like a letter from a solicitor, and Joris has always been friendly. Maybe it was an accident. Maybe the finance department did it, not him. Maybe you are about to embarrass a nice person over a transfer fee.

Third draft: No worries at all about the difference!

You look at that one for a long time. Because you do worry. You worry a little every time a payment lands short, late or vague. You have a whole quiet habit of saying "no worries" while your shoulders climb toward your ears.

You close the laptop. You make soup with the leeks. You do not enjoy it.

What the soup was really about

Here is the part nobody says out loud. The shortfall was never the real problem. The real problem is that you have no calm, ready way to ask.

Every time money comes in wrong, you start from zero. You invent the tone from scratch, while your pulse is up, in the middle of your weekend. You decide again whether you are allowed to mind. You wonder again whether a professional would just let it go.

And while you wonder, the difference sits there. Unmentioned. Slowly becoming a habit.

On Sunday evening you notice the thought that has been under everything: I do not know what the next step is supposed to be.

Not what to say. What the next step is. Is this a first reminder? A simple note? Do you wait a week? Who is even supposed to decide?

The version where it's just Tuesday

Now picture the other version of that Saturday.

The notification arrives. €1,182.50. You register it the way you register the weather. Short by €17.50. You nod at the leeks, buy the potatoes too, and talk to the stallholder about whether it will rain.

On Monday you open your overdue list. The invoice is still marked partly open, with the amount left to ask for. Beside it, a plain note about what comes next: one short, friendly message about the difference. You pick the wording that sounds like you, change the name, and read it once.

Hi Joris, thanks for the payment. It arrived €17.50 short, which looks like transfer charges taken off on the way. Could you send the remaining amount when you get a chance? Happy to resend the invoice if that helps.

No apology. No edge. Just a clear sentence, said kindly.

You press send. You make tea. It is 9:12 on a Monday and the knot is not there.

Maybe Joris pays the difference the same afternoon. Maybe he says his finance team will look at it. Maybe it takes another note, a little firmer, a week later. Whatever happens, you already know what the step after that looks like, because it was written down while you were calm. You are not making it up on the spot with your heart in your throat.

Dignity is mostly a routine

That is what changes. Not that clients never short-pay. Some will, by accident, by habit, by policy, and a few by hoping you won't mention it. What changes is that you stop treating each one as a verdict on whether you are allowed to ask.

You are running a real business. Real businesses have a way of saying this amount was agreed, and here is what's still open. It isn't aggressive. It's just tidy.

And you get your weekends back, because the wording and the next step no longer live in your head.

If that Saturday sounded familiar

We made a small kit for exactly this feeling: Chase Money Without Begging – Payment Reminder Email Kit & Overdue Tracker. It has 12 calm reminder emails in English and German, an escalation timeline PDF, and an Excel overdue tracker that shows you the next step. It organises your follow-ups. It does not replace a tax or legal professional.

If it doesn't help, you have 30 days to ask for a full refund, no questions.

In the meantime, buy the potatoes too.

An illustrative story, written with AI assistance.