Sleepless for Nothing?

The Hidden Cost of the Pitch Economy

A few weeks back, I found myself locked in a deep, caffeine-fueled brainstorm with my strategist. We were finalizing a campaign pitch for one of the country’s major economic and infrastructure development agencies. The idea was bold. The strategy was watertight. The numbers made sense. We believed in it.

It should’ve been a game-changer — a R100 million campaign that could’ve transformed not just our agency, but how the public sector engages with citizens. But just as quickly as the opportunity arrived, it disappeared.

“Tender cancelled — pending transformation process review.”

That was the official line. No feedback. No explanation. Just the cold silence of a door slammed shut after five weeks of 12-hour days, creative marathons, strategy deep-dives, and financial outlays.

No refund for time spent. No recognition for the value created. Just: "Thank you for participating."

The Toll of the Tender System

This isn’t a one-off experience. It’s a pattern — one that many SMMEs, especially black-owned agencies, know all too well.

A few months back, a government department invited us to a “closed pitch” and required 16 hard copies of the submission. Just the printing cost was over R5,000. Multiply that by the number of briefs you chase and lose every year, and the maths becomes sobering.

You start to ask yourself:

  • Is this worth it?

  • Are these pitches really about ideas and delivery — or about ticking a procurement box?

  • Are we genuinely in the running, or are we just making up the numbers?

And worse, you begin to internalize the loss. Was the idea not strong enough? Was the deck not sharp enough? Was it politics? Was it personal?

When Strategy Meets Reality

As my strategist and I debated the future, we kept circling back to one point: What is the real cost of pitching?

Not just in rands and cents. But in emotional burnout, creative fatigue, and opportunity cost. For every hour spent writing a pitch that goes nowhere, that's an hour not spent refining client work, mentoring juniors, or building your agency’s own brand.

In theory, tenders are meant to be democratic. In practice, they often exclude the very people they're meant to uplift. If you're a small agency without political ties or legacy networks, the playing field feels permanently tilted.

So Why Do We Keep Pitching?

Because hope is a powerful drug.

Because every once in a while, the stars align. The process is fair. The judging panel is open-minded. The idea wins. The budget is real. And the campaign makes an impact.

We pitch because we believe that creativity can change things. That insight and originality still matter. That just one win can lead to another — and another.

But we also pitch because walking away feels like surrender. Like conceding that the system can’t be shifted. That the gatekeepers always win.

A Call for Change

To the public and private sector alike:
If you're going to invite pitches, honour the process. Respect the time it takes to produce good work. Offer feedback. Be transparent about decision-making. And consider reimbursing shortlisted agencies, especially for large-scale creative proposals.

To agencies:
Know your worth. Say no when a pitch doesn’t serve your team, your business, or your purpose. Document your effort. Protect your IP. Build smarter, not harder.

To strategists everywhere:
Keep questioning. Keep pushing. And keep believing that ideas — when treated with the respect they deserve — can still lead.

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The Illusion of Rebirth