When collaboration feels like a $300 salad hat

A few summers ago, I was sitting in a creaky lawn chair on the patio of a run-down lakefront shack I’d rented for the season—scrolling through Facebook, as one does when avoiding real life.

That’s when the ad found me.

An end-of-season clearance sale: a patio set with a loveseat, a captain’s chair, and a table—all for $300. What a deal!

I looked up from my screen and instantly imagined it: this tired patio transformed into an Instagram-worthy oasis. I could already see myself sipping lemonade, reading novels, and living my best paddle-boarding mama life.

And, because I’d made the very poor life choice of memorizing my credit card number, I was able to order the set right then and there—without so much as standing up from the uncomfortable chair I was trying to replace to fetch my wallet.

Then I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Until, one day, a small, squishy envelope arrived from somewhere in China.

Inside were two things:

• A printout of my full $300 invoice, and

• A single item: a silicone bowl cover.

No loveseat. No table. No oasis. Just this flappy little thing—which, I suppose, would have been helpful if my salad had needed a hat.

My heart sank. Not just because I’d fallen for a scam, but because what I thought I was getting—what I wanted to be getting—was so dramatically different from what actually arrived.

Collaboration?

It’s often just like that shipment.

Despite big visions, high hopes and best intentions, many collaborations fail to deliver on their promise. What arrives instead is something underwhelming. Disappointing. And sometimes… totally useless.

If you’re tired of disappointing collaborations that fail to meet their promise or potential, I can help. Reach out for a zero-pressure conversation about your situation. Let’s explore what better could look like—together.