We get the Architectural floor plans. It's go time.
We put on the sound-canceling headphones, grab a coffee, and lock in.
We love this part. Bluebeam, Revit, and Excel, each on its own screen. Our torn and over-tabbed code books flip furiously.
The longer the cantilever, the more off-grid our columns, the more complex our staircase, the more we lean in. A week flies by without us even noticing. We wrap it up and send it off to the team.
We did our job. We feel so good.
A week later, the contractor gets back to us. "Design's over budget. Cut 10%, and we can't afford the basement."
But what about that 5m cantilever we figured out for you?
It doesn't matter.
We did what we loved doing, and it didn't help move the project forward.
This is the pattern we designers love to run. It's an autopilot we turn on. We can go forever without stopping, but if a design isn't grounded in price, it never lands.
Next time, when the floor plans land, before the headphones go on, we ask:
What's the minimum level of detail we can provide to get an estimate on price?
