The job post looked fine. Standard stuff.

“Seeking freelance UX designer for 3-month dashboard redesign project. Potential to convert to full-time for the right candidate.”

I took the call.

Twenty minutes in: “So, timeline. We’re actually hoping more like 6 weeks because investor meeting. Budget is somewhat flexible – were you open to equity instead of part of the cash? Also our last designer left mid-project, files are a bit scattered, you’d need to figure out what they were doing.”

Three separate sentences. Three separate problems I’d stopped taking two years ago, now packaged together.

This isn’t a freelance UX design job. This is three commitment problems wearing a trench coat.

I don’t take these anymore. Not because I can’t do the work. Because I finally learned to spot when “freelance” means “we’re not actually ready to commit to anything, but we need someone to commit to us.”

What’s Actually Happening Here

You’re hedging. Which is understandable – hiring is expensive, commitment is scary, you’re not sure if investing in product design will actually move the needle.

So you post for a “freelance UX designer” because it feels lower-risk than full-time. Temporary. Reversible. Like renting furniture.

Problem is, that hedging doesn’t stay contained in the job description. It shows up in budget discussions. In timeline negotiations. In how decisions get made. In whether anything actually gets built.

You’re not hiring someone to solve a design problem. You’re hiring someone to work around the fact that you’re not ready to commit to solving it.

And I’ve been that someone enough times to know how it ends.

The Three Flavors of Non-Commitment

1. “With Potential to Go Full-Time”

What the job post says:
“3-month contract with potential to convert to full-time for the right candidate.”

What this actually means:
You want me to act like an employee (invested, committed, caring about long-term product success) while paying me like a contractor (no benefits, no stability, no guarantee past Friday).

Meanwhile, I’m supposed to turn down other work because you “might” hire me full-time. Maybe. If budget allows. If the project goes well. If the VP who’s been skeptical about design suddenly becomes less skeptical. If several other things align.

Three months later: “We’re still finalizing budget for the full-time role. Can we extend the contract for another quarter?”

This isn’t a conversion opportunity. It’s a permanent audition where the judges keep changing their scoring criteria.

2. “Equity Instead of Full Rate”

What the job post says:
“Competitive rate + equity package for the right freelance UX designer.”

What this actually means:
You can’t afford market rate. So you’re offering 0.5% equity that vests over 4 years, assuming the company doesn’t pivot into something completely different, run out of runway, or decide I wasn’t “culture fit” six months in.

Quick math: I’d need your startup to exit for $50M+ just to match what I’d have made at normal rates.

And here’s the tell – if you really believed in your equity, you wouldn’t need to discount the cash portion. The equity would be the bonus, not the substitute.

This isn’t a compensation package. It’s a bet you want me to make on your company with my rent money.

3. “Continuing Where Our Last Designer Left Off”

What the job post says:
“Looking for freelance UX designer to pick up existing project. Files and documentation available.”

What they don’t say:
Why did the last designer leave? And what actually counts as “documentation”? (Usually: a Figma file with 47 frames labeled “Final_v2_FINAL_actualfinal” and a Slack thread from 8 months ago.)

Why designers leave projects:

• Stakeholders couldn’t make decisions
• Designs never got implemented
• Scope kept changing every sprint
• Budget ran out mid-project
• “Not culture fit” (they asked too many questions)

If I’m your third freelance UX designer on the same project, the problem isn’t the designers. It’s that you’re not committed to doing what design requires: time for research, budget for implementation, or someone who can actually make decisions.

You’re hiring designer after designer hoping one of them will magically solve problems that aren’t design problems.

What It Cost Me

Four years ago, I took one of these.

B2B SaaS company. Dashboard redesign. “3-month contract, but honestly we’re 90% sure this goes full-time.”

The work was fine. Team was smart. Product actually had users. Every month: “Still working on getting budget approved for the full-time role. Should be sorted soon.”

Month 4: “Can you extend? Approvals are taking longer than expected.”
Month 6: “Definitely still happening. Board meeting next month, that should unlock it.”
Month 8: “So… we got approval for a full-time role. Junior level though. Couldn’t get the senior budget through. But really appreciate everything you did.”

Eight months. I’d turned down two other projects because I was “saving capacity” for when they converted me. No benefits. No job security. No full-time role.

The work I did was good – they built most of it. They’re still using parts of it. They just never actually committed to having design as a permanent function.

I was a temporary solution they kept extending because it was easier than committing.

That’s when I started reading “freelance UX designer” job posts differently.

Why This Keeps Happening

Because committing is genuinely hard.

The full-time dilemma

Committing to a full-time designer means admitting design matters enough to prioritize permanently. That’s a tough sell if you’re not sure yet. Easier to test it with a freelancer first.

The budget politics

Committing to market-rate payment means choosing design over other budget items. Sales wants another rep. Engineering wants another backend dev. Design wants… prettier interfaces? (This is how it gets positioned internally, even when it shouldn’t be.)

The implementation problem

Committing to implementing what gets designed means stakeholders have to actually change how they work. That’s uncomfortable. Much easier to get the designs, thank the designer, and then keep doing things the old way.

“Freelance” feels safer. Lower stakes. Easier to end if it’s not working. Like hiring someone to fix your business model with a redesign – technically possible, but you’re solving the wrong problem.

And sometimes freelance genuinely makes sense. Some projects really are 3 months of work. Some companies really do convert contractors.

But I’ve learned to tell the difference between:

• “We need freelance help for a specific project” (committed to outcome, timeline is real)
• “We’re testing if design matters before we invest properly” (freelancer is the pilot program)

Second one doesn’t work. At least not for the freelancer.

What Changed for Me

I stopped applying to freelance UX design jobs that signal commitment hedging.

Not out of principle. Out of pattern recognition.

Same way I stopped taking projects from companies redesigning to avoid fixing their business model. Same way I learned to spot spiritual LinkedIn pitches that translate to “I can’t explain what I actually do.” Same way I figured out that “we’ll just do a quick design audit” means six months of scope creep.

These are all versions of the same thing: hiring someone to work around a problem you’re not ready to solve directly.

Now I ask different questions in discovery calls.

Why freelance, not full-time?

Instead of: “What’s the project?”
I ask: “Why freelance instead of full-time?”

If the answer is “we’re not ready to commit to full-time yet,” fine. But then I ask: “What would make you ready? And what happens to this work if you’re never ready?”

If they don’t have answers, I’m probably going to be designer #4 on this project. And designers #1, #2, and #3 all quit for the same reason I will.

Timeline reality check

Instead of: “What’s the timeline?”
I ask: “Is this timeline based on what the work requires, or what your budget allows?”

If it’s budget, we’re cutting corners. And when the UX doesn’t work, they’ll say the freelance designer didn’t deliver.

What happened to the last designer

Instead of: “What happened to your last designer?”
I ask: This. Directly. Every time now.

If they deflect or get vague, that’s my answer.

Look

I’m not here to lecture you about when you’re ready to hire. That’s your call, and your budget, and your risk to manage.

But if you’re posting for a freelance UX designer because you’re not ready to commit – to paying for it properly, implementing what gets designed, or changing how your team actually works – just know that experienced designers will spot it.

And most of them will pass.

Not because they’re precious or expensive or difficult. Because they’ve been the temporary solution to permanent problems enough times to recognize the pattern.

They’ve done the 8-month “contract” that never converted. They’ve taken equity that never vested. They’ve picked up projects where three designers already quit for reasons nobody wants to discuss.

The work always looks fine in the end. Stakeholders are usually pleased. But nothing actually changes because you were never committed to changing anything. Just to looking like you were trying.

Six months later, you’re posting for another freelance UX designer. Wondering why this keeps happening.

Get clear on what you’re actually committing to. Not just hiring someone, but implementing what they design. Paying them what the work costs. Giving them access to users and stakeholders and decision-makers.

Then post the job.

Until then, the good designers will keep scrolling past your “freelance UX designer” listings. Not because they don’t need work. Because they’ve learned what “freelance” too often translates to in practice.

And some of us have decided we’d rather wait for clients who are actually ready.

(The rest will figure it out after their third failed freelance hire. Usually around month 14. Give or take.)