The True Terrors of a Frankenstein Contract
It’s spooky season, so let’s talk about the monster a lot of you have chained up in the basement of your business: your contract. Now, this is a judgment free zone (unless you don’t like cats, then, respectfully, get the @&^# out), but a lot of you are out here presenting a sort of Frankenstein disaster of a contract, and I can’t keep my mouth shut any longer.
You know how it starts. A friend or a colleague sent you their contract, so you used that as the foundation. The legs, if you will. Then, you found some language on Google that sounded official, so in it went. We’ve got eyeballs, folks. Next, someone in a Facebook group catches your attention. They swear by a clause they use so, what the heck, you throw that in too. Now, you have arms from some guy named Kevin who “took a business law elective five years ago.” And why stop there? You ask ChatGPT to “clean it up” or fill in whatever is missing.
Congratulations, it’s aliiiiiiiiive!!! Mwahahaha! …and so is the chaos.
Please don’t take legal advice from people in Facebook groups and/or let ChatGPT draft your contracts. At least, not unless you want angry mobs (your clients) coming at you with pitchforks.
What’s So Wrong With Frankenstein Contracts?
Glad you asked. Stitching a contract together from 5 different sources looks sloppy and functions poorly, and it happens in a way you may not notice until the townspeople are banging at your door. Let me break it down further:
Provisions that contradict each other. A clause from Source A and a clause from Source B might each sound perfectly reasonable on their own. Put them in the same document, though, and now your contract is arguing with itself in the lab at midnight. Guess who has to referee that argument later? You, in a much worse mood, probably with a client also unhappy with you.
Defined terms that don't match. "Client" means one thing in paragraph two and something completely different in paragraph nine, because two different templates define it two different ways. Cute. Except now your contract doesn't actually say what you think it says.
Things that aren't even enforceable in your state. That surcharge you tacked on to cover credit card processing fees, because you saw someone else do it? Depending on where you do business, that provision might be flat-out unenforceable. Templates don't know what state you're in. You do, and your contract should too.
You genuinely don't know what you signed. This is the one that keeps me up at night, and it's why my process always includes a call where we go through your agreement top to bottom, together, before anyone signs anything. If you've never worked with an attorney, you've probably never had someone really explain what you're agreeing to. And be honest, you have no idea what "indemnity" means. (No shame. That's the whole reason attorneys exist.)
Your Contract Shouldn’t Be a Group Project
A contract sewn together from multiple sources is just a liability with a trench coat on. It hopes nobody is looking too closely and, once it’s out creeping around your business unsupervised, it looks for the closest angry mob. You going to law school isn’t the solution. You just need a contract that’s actually built for your business, in your state, and in language that you can understand and defend.
Ready to retire the monster before it runs amuck? Let’s build you something solid. No pitchforks needed.
