A reflection on fear of claims — not the claim itself, but the scar tissue it can leave behind in professional judgement and client relationships.

What Happened

I came across a LinkedIn post recently about fear of claims.

Of course, we’re afraid of claims. Nobody wants the stress, the time, or the emotional toll they bring. In a profession where judgement and accountability sit so close together, a claim can feel like a personal and professional gut punch.

But the post wasn’t really about the claim itself.
It was about the scar tissue it can leave behind.

Over the years, I’ve seen many reactions to claims: denial, anger, withdrawal, shame. I’ve also seen capable, thoughtful surveyors go through a difficult experience and quietly lose their nerve.

For some, that happens immediately as they pore over a complaint, trying to understand what went wrong. For others, it happens more slowly. Doubt creeps in. Opinions soften. Caveats multiply. Reports grow longer, but somehow say less.

More subtly, the relationship with the client shifts. Instead of asking, “How can I help?”, the unspoken question becomes, “How might this person catch me out?”

Why It Matters

That shift matters more than we often realise.

When fear starts to dominate professional judgement, the surveyor isn’t just protecting themselves — they’re changing how they practise.

Clients don’t experience this as careful risk management. They experience it as distance, or as a lack of clarity at the point they most need guidance.

They’ve paid for expert judgement, but what they sometimes receive is a defensive fence-sitter: careful, but not confident; thorough, but unwilling to commit; present, but not quite alongside them.

That doesn’t remove risk.
It redistributes it.

The client still has decisions to make. The property still carries uncertainty. But the professional judgement they were relying on feels muted, and responsibility quietly shifts back onto them.

This isn’t about blame.

If you’ve been through the mill on a claim, it is brutal. It would be unrealistic — and unfair — to pretend it doesn’t leave a mark, particularly earlier in a career.

The question is what that mark turns into.

Too often, the lesson taken from a claim is never work with that kind of client again or always add the caveat. Those reactions are understandable, but they’re also decisions made through fear rather than reflection.

They narrow their work instead of strengthening it.

Most people become surveyors because they want to help people understand risk, not retreat from it. When fear hardens into suspicion, the work becomes adversarial — and trust begins to erode.

What I’d Ask

After a difficult experience, one question is worth sitting with:

Has this made me clearer and more confident in my judgement — or just more guarded in how I work with clients?

Because confidence doesn’t come from avoiding complaints.
It comes from learning well enough to keep surveying with care, clarity, and conviction.

Until next time,
Marion

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