Has the Pitch Process Become Totally Dehumanised?

By Steve Lambert

I've been in marketing for over 30 years, both client-side and agency-side. I've had the benefit of seeing this from both sides. And something has shifted in the way agencies and brands work together — or more accurately, the way they don't.

The human element is disappearing from the pitch process. The conversations, the chemistry, the back and forth that used to define great client-agency relationships — it feels like it's being engineered out. And I think it's worth talking about.

The Crazy World of the Pitch

Here's what it actually looks like for an agency right now.

A brief lands. Sometimes strong. Often it's incomplete, missing clear objectives, and frequently without a budget. You're expected to interpret what the brand actually wants, fill in the gaps, develop a strategy, build a creative concept, detail the operational delivery, and produce granular costings. All on spec. All for free. All within a couple of weeks.

You put your team on it. Days, sometimes weeks of work. Real money. Genuine thinking. You do it properly because that's what you do and because every pitch matters when you're building an agency.

Then you submit it. And a decision gets made — somewhere, by someone — without you ever having the chance to present it.

That's the bit I struggle with. All of that work, all of that thinking, and it gets reduced to words on a page and a number at the bottom. No chance to walk the decision makers through the thinking. No chance to show them who they'd actually be working with.

And that matters. Because a presentation isn't a formality. It's where you see how a team thinks on their feet, how they respond to a challenge, how they riff on an idea, how they handle the question they didn't expect. You can't get that from a PowerPoint, and you can't feel it in a spreadsheet. You get it by being in a room with people.

When you take that away, you're not really evaluating agencies. You're comparing documents. And that's not the same thing.

The response — when it comes at all — is often just: another agency came in cheaper. Not better. Not more experienced. Not more suited. Just cheaper.

Whatever Happened to Good Cop, Bad Cop?

"Lowest cost wins" seems to be becoming the default, and I think it's undermining years of good work by procurement professionals who genuinely understand this industry.

I've worked with procurement people who have been brilliant. They challenged assumptions. They found savings I didn't know existed. They pushed us to be sharper and held us to account. They understood that marketing isn't a commodity — that the difference between an agency that gets your brand and one that's read your website the night before is significant, and it shows in the results.

The best procurement partnerships I've had worked because there was a human dynamic at play. Marketing championed the vision. Procurement pressure-tested the value. Good cop, bad cop. Conversations. Negotiations. People in a room, working through it, arriving at something that was commercially sound and creatively right.

That dynamic seems to be fading in places. And I want to be clear — in places. Because there are companies still doing this really well. There are procurement teams running processes that are rigorous, fair, and human. They set a budget. They define the criteria. They give agencies the chance to present. And the result is better work, better partnerships, and better value for everyone involved.

The procurement professionals I've respected most over the years are the ones who've looked us in the eye. Who've sat across the table, quizzed us, challenged us, pushed us to justify every line. They've seen the whites of our eyes and made their judgment accordingly. That's procurement at its best — and it's incredibly valuable.

But not every process looks like that. And where it doesn't, I don't think it's the fault of the procurement teams themselves — they're following the process they've been given. When they're measured purely on cost savings, of course, they'll optimise for cost. But the people who designed those incentives, who decided that creative services should be evaluated the same way as office supplies — that's where the question needs to be directed.

I want to be really clear about something: this isn't sour grapes. Being told no is part of agency life. I'm fine with no. What I'm not fine with is weeks of work — genuine thinking, real investment — never getting the chance to breathe. Never being heard. A decision made from the bottom line of a spreadsheet without anyone in the room who can explain what the numbers actually mean or what sits behind them. That's oversimplistic. It's dehumanised. And honestly, nobody wins — not the agency, not procurement, and not the brand.

And here's the commercial reality: when the process doesn't allow enough time to fully understand the brief — on either side — it leaves the door wide open to scope creep. If what's being bought isn't properly defined at the outset, it can't be locked down. And the process designed to save money ends up costing more.

The Brief Is Where It Starts

I've always believed that an agency is only as good as the brief it's been given. Clear objectives, a defined budget, a well-thought-through scope — that leads to strong responses. A vague brief with no budget and a two-week turnaround leads to guesswork.

There's a responsibility on the brand side here. If you're asking agencies to invest significant time and resources, the brief needs to reflect that same commitment. Otherwise, everyone's wasting time.

I've said no to three tender requests this year because the briefs didn't add up. The scope was unclear, the objectives were muddled, and in at least one case, I had a strong feeling we were there to make up the numbers. That's a hard call when you're running a growing agency, but putting ourteam through weeks of work for a process that feels predetermined is harder.

Are Marketing Directors Still Calling the Shots?

I want to tread carefully here because I'm speaking from my own experience, not a survey.

But from what I can see, it feels like Marketing Directors have less influence over agency selection than they used to. The accountability stays the same — you still own the brand, the targets, the results — but the authority over who helps you deliver seems to be shrinking.

And if Marketing Directors aren't in the room when the decision is made, who's assessing chemistry? Who's making the judgment call that only comes from experience — that these are the people I want working alongside me? Because that doesn't have a column on the scorecard.

Am I wrong?

All We're Asking for Is a Fair Game

Someone has to lose. That's the game. Every agency knows that going in. Winning is great, but losing is part of it too, and I'm absolutely fine with that. What matters is how you lose.

Just a year ago we lost a huge pitch. Properly big. One we really wanted. And my admiration for that company actually grew because of the way they ran the process. We had a fair chance. The brief was clear. We got to present our thinking. Communication from procurement throughout was exceptional. And when the decision was made, they picked up the phone and gave us honest, detailed feedback. We didn't win, but we walked away better for it. That is the value exchange. That's how it should work.

I've had other losses where I've walked away with real respect for the agency that beat us. They were better. Fair play. Those losses don't sting — they motivate you. Because when the process is fair and the feedback is honest, you learn something. You come back sharper.

It's better to know than not know. It's better to hear "you were beaten by a stronger proposition" than "you were beaten by someone cheaper." And it's infinitely better than hearing nothing at all.

So here's what it comes down to. When you ask for our time, our knowledge, our investment, and our best thinking — all we ask for in return is a clear brief with defined objectives, an identified budget so we can respond appropriately, transparent assessment criteria so we know what we're being measured on, and a chance to present our thinking to the decision makers. Face to face. So we can answer the hard questions, and you can get a feel for who you'd actually be working with.

That's a pretty simple value exchange. And without it, I'm increasingly asking myself: should we even be responding?

If there's no budget, no clearly thought-through objectives, no assessment criteria, and no presentation opportunity — what are we actually competing for? A chance to be the lowest number on a spreadsheet?

That's not a pitch. That's a lottery.

Is it just us drawing a harder line on this? Or are agencies across the industry doing the same? I'd genuinely love to know.

The best client-agency relationships I've been part of all started the same way: with people sitting down together and working out whether they were right for each other. That's not complicated. It's just human.

So has the pitch process become totally dehumanised? In some cases, yes — I think it has. But it doesn't have to stay that way. The companies getting this right prove that. And every time someone picks up the phone, sets a proper brief, puts a budget on the table, and invites an agency to present their thinking face to face — that's a step back towards a process that actually works. For everyone.

Let's rehumanise it.

And yes — before anyone asks — I have just lost a pitch