Chronicles of an Architect: Architect’s Fees, To Pay or Not to Pay

The architect’s office was one that exuded elegance. The aura and general ambience you feel when you get into the office is an interesting crossbreed of warmth and respect.

His desk was of prime grade mahogany with impressive lacquer the type that gives you reflections when light shines on it. It was about two metres in length and a meter in width. Behind it was a black leather executive chair, the kind that swivels.

In front of this desk was a pair of black leather seats, one facing the other, for his visitors. This desk had books and construction magazines neatly arranged on one side; a manifestation of his trade.

One side of the office had large windows whose height was from the ceiling to about one and a half feet from the floor. With such large windows you are afforded an impressive vista of the exterior. That was not all. The evening sunlight was filtering directly into the office space from this window and it made one feel warm.

I was led to the black leather settee that was close to the window and asked to sit. There was another settee adjacent to it and a low-lying elegant triangular glass table with rounded edges that gave my artistic eyes a statement of simplicity. It had a curvilinear chrome frame underneath that descended into its three legs forming a tripod arrangement. That transparent glass table in all its elegance seemed to tell all its visitors to keep staring.

An inviting smell of well-made Kenyan Masala tea was wafting in the air and I could not help but be tantalized. I closed my eyes as if the gift of sight was interfering with my ability to smell. “Hi, would you like some tea?” the lady asked. My train of thoughts was politely interrupted. I obliged. “Yes, please. Thank you.” She placed the flask of tea on a mat on the glass table and turned to leave.

Just then, the man I was waiting to see arrived. They exchanged pleasantries and she left the office. I do not know where my legs marshaled all the vigor with which I stood to greet him. I still do not understand why I rose so fast. Was it respect? Was it instinct? I cannot tell. One thing for sure, he commands a presence that makes you just want to stand at attention when seeing him.

For a brief moment there, I grew tense. Then he smiled and stretched his hand to greet me. I was relieved. “How are you Dennis?” he asked with his authoritative and deep voice as he motioned me to sit down. “I am fine sir.” I said as I sat down. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting.” He said as he looked at his watch. Nothing about him was casual. Not even the casual clothes he wore.

He was obsessively punctual to the minute. It is as if he was just outside the door all along waiting for the clock to strike 5:30p.m. This strong affinity to time keeping is one of his greatest qualities. His mantra “punctuality is the soul of business” is ingrained in his DNA.

I had an appointment with him and he had offered to meet me at his office at 5:30pm. Since I am not so much of a time keeper myself, I knew I had to arrive there some twenty minutes before the appointed time. He detests tardiness. He once told me that in a site meeting some time ago, he refused to allow the client into the meeting on account of being late. I am still in shock. So when it was my time to be tested, I did not want to fail the test.

He was an architect worth his salt. He had a reputation for professionalism and delivering on his projects. His name was Ile Nzuri. “I am just from the gym so I will not join you yet for the cup of tea, but go ahead and pour yourself some tea as we talk about the architect’s fees,” he stated as he sat next to me on the leather settee. “No wonder you look athletic.” I told him as I sipped my tea and he laughed.

He can be too straight-forward for the average person but that is just his style. It was for this same reason that I indicated in my email to him what the agenda of our meeting will be. He simply cannot handle ambiguity. For him, beating about the bush is time consuming and wasteful of everybody’s time. He believes that truth is always quicker.

If you want a piece of his resources, of which time is one, he needs to know why. As a young architect, I had started encountering serious challenges in my practice because of sporadic and measly cash flow.

I wrote to him and asked for his assistance to enlighten me as a mentor would, and he accepted. Our meeting lasted 45 minutes as he was to embark on some office work afterwards. He adjusted himself on the sofa, crossed his legs and leaned back. Then he looked at me and began.

“In my thirty years of practice as an architect, I have come to learn a few things about how clients perceive our services and how eventually we get paid.

I once had a client who was the CEO of the Kenyan Franchise o