Materials Markup Too High? The Call Over a Cold Flask

2026-11-01

The flask is still half full when the phone buzzes on the dashboard. Tuesday, 12:40, a retail park car park, rain ticking on the van roof.

The name on the screen is Mrs Brandt. Last week you fitted her new kitchen tap and the pipework under the sink. The invoice went out yesterday.

You let it ring twice. Then you answer.

"Hi, I just wanted to ask about the invoice," she says. Her voice is friendly. That makes it worse. "The tap is listed at 140. I found the same one online for 89. Isn't that quite a high markup?"

Your stomach does the small drop you know well.

The sentence you reach for

You hear yourself say, "Well, there's, um, handling involved."

It sounds weak, even to you. She says, "Right, of course," in the voice people use when they're not convinced but don't want a fight.

You look at the dashboard. A receipt from the builders' merchant is curled up next to the sat-nav. You can't remember what was on it. You know you drove to the merchant twice for this job, because the first fitting was the wrong thread. You know you waited at the counter. You know you carried it up three flights.

What you don't know, right now, is what that job actually earned you.

So you say the thing that costs you money. "Let me have a look and come back to you." Then you hang up, and the tea tastes of nothing.

What the pause was really about

The markup isn't what hurts. It's the feeling that you can't explain your own price.

You know the tap wasn't just a tap. It was the trip, the waiting, the return when something didn't fit, and the fact that if it leaks in March, you're the one she calls. But those things live in your head. They don't live on the page in front of you.

So when someone says "too high," you hear "you're overcharging me." And because you can't point to anything solid, a part of you wonders if they're right.

It's the same quiet worry as every other price you've ever said out loud. You wonder whether you've been greedy or whether you've been too soft. You never find out, because the numbers are scattered between a glovebox, a banking app and a notebook with a coffee ring on it.

You finish the sandwich standing by the van door, then drive to the next job a little slower than usual.

The afternoon you stopped guessing

Here's the other version of that Tuesday. It isn't dramatic.

The phone buzzes. Same Mrs Brandt, same question about the tap. But the job is already written down: what the materials cost you, what you charged, how many hours went into it, and what was left. You glance at it once. It takes a few seconds.

And your voice is different, because you're not defending a feeling. You're describing a job you can see.

"That's a fair thing to ask," you say. "The price covers sourcing the right part, collecting it, and standing behind it if something goes wrong. If you'd rather supply your own tap next time, I'm happy to fit it and just charge for the labour."

There's a short silence. Then: "Oh. No, that's fine, I just wanted to understand it."

That's usually what it was. Most people aren't attacking you. They want to understand what they're paying for, and they're waiting for you to say it without flinching.

A normal Monday, afterwards

Nothing about the work changes. You still carry things up stairs, you still get rained on, and you still sometimes drive back for the wrong thread.

But Monday morning looks different. You sit in the van with your coffee and open one sheet. You can see which jobs left you something and which ones quietly left you nothing. You can see which materials you've bought but not yet charged for, and who hasn't paid yet.

When the next quote comes up, you're not guessing from memory on a doorstep. You know what your materials really cost you, once the trips and the returns are counted. You say a number, and it sits steady in your voice.

Some customers will still push back. That's allowed. The difference is that you now have something real to answer with, and you don't have to apologise for earning a living.

You're also not building a spreadsheet at the kitchen table. The quote, the receipts and the margin already sit in one place, ready the next time someone asks.

If that Tuesday sounded familiar

If you've ever said "let me get back to you" because you couldn't explain your own price, you're not unprofessional. You just haven't had the numbers within reach.

Quote It Right – Job Quote, Materials & Margin Sheet is an Excel quote builder for tradespeople. You price a job on site, track materials and receipts, and see your real margin and who still owes you. It comes with a 30-day money-back promise: if it doesn't help, you get a full refund, no questions.

It's a tool for organising your own figures. It doesn't replace a tax professional, and the pricing decisions stay yours.

The tea can still go cold. The call just doesn't have to feel like a verdict.

An illustrative story, written with AI assistance.