Why client deliverables need multi step review
The first time I skipped reviews on a design file, it went out with placeholder text that literally said Lorem Ipsum in the middle of a product description. The client caught it, not me. That embarrassment alone made me put in place a messy but necessary multi step review process. If you’re sending deliverables—whether that’s a PDF report, an email sequence draft, or a Figma prototype—you cannot rely on your brain to see everything at once. I learned the hard way that I stop noticing typos after the third hour of looking at the same page.
When I talk about multi step review, I don’t mean adding pointless meetings. I mean: open it in the tool where the client will actually view it, then pass it through different sets of eyes, then run it through automated checks. The reason this works is because different surfaces show different problems. A doc looks fine in Word but spacing explosions happen when you export it to Google Slides. A Figma frame feels clean until you realize the mobile version hides the call to action button. That’s why you build in stages instead of doing one giant review at the end 🙂
Breaking down the first self review stage
I always begin with what I call the “silent corrections round.” It’s literally me reading my work out loud in a quiet room. Reading aloud feels silly but it forces me to hear missing words that I would normally skim past. After that, I check format inconsistencies: headers, paragraph spacing, links actually working. I once thought a link was fine until I clicked and landed on a 404 screen. Never again.
Next, I export the file in whatever final format is expected. A doc in Word is not the same once you save as PDF. Fonts shift, margins misalign, sometimes a footer randomly disappears. That catch alone has saved me from client confusion more than once. If it’s a video, I render at least once and review without headphones so I can hear weird audio balance issues.
Finally, I force two hours away from the screen before I look again. Fatigue makes my brain autocorrect typos that viewers will definitely see. Yes, this adds time. But it’s less awkward than apologizing to a client afterward. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
Inviting team members for second layer
This part is where things get messy, because people edit differently depending on their role. What I did was separate reviewers by focus: one person checks accuracy of content, another guards style and tone, another watches for formatting glitches. Without that, you just get vague comments like “this doesn’t feel right.”
In practice: I share a Google Doc with tracked changes switched on. But after the seventh round of comments, it turns into spaghetti. To make it manageable, I copy their key edits into a single cleanup pass. Otherwise the document turns into twenty little suggestion bubbles scattered everywhere.
If your team uses Slack for feedback, be warned: people drop edits in-channel like “line 2 has a typo” without context. Returning to the doc afterward means scrolling through threads to reconstruct what they meant. A fix I came up with is a quick table at the top of the document where each reviewer logs issues as rows. It’s not perfect, but at least they all land in one place.
Using automation to highlight hidden mistakes
Here’s where my automation obsession sneaks back in. I wired up a Zapier flow that grabs any Google Doc in a particular folder, runs it through Grammarly, and then pings me in Slack with a summary list. It’s not flawless. Sometimes it flags brand specific language as errors. But it reliably catches duplicate words like “the the,” which I miss constantly.
For design, I use a Figma plugin that generates screenshots of all frames onto a board. Viewing them side by side shows spacing inconsistencies instantly. I once noticed that my client’s logo looked sharp on one screen but blurry on another. Turns out one image frame was scaled instead of exported natively.
Another trick: export everything once into PDF and then run that PDF through Adobe’s accessibility checker. Alt text issues, missing heading structure, funky table layouts all show up there. If your client ever needs ADA compliance, you can’t skip this. Even if they don’t, you don’t want reading orders scrambled for screen readers.
Performing a mock client experience test
Sometimes I pretend I am the client and receive the file like they would. Literally email it to myself, open it on mobile, then on tablet, then on a browser in incognito mode. I caught a hilarious bug once where my images all vanished on Firefox but looked fine in Chrome. If I hadn’t checked, the client might have thought I just forgot to include images.
I also create fake download links and open them. If the file is too heavy, your client is stuck watching it buffer for a long time. By testing the exact delivery method—Dropbox link, Google Drive share, email attachment—you find problems long before they do. 😛
Final sanity check before client delivery
This step is easy to skip because you feel done. But right before sending, I make sure the filename is clear. A label like Final_Report_v3 really isn’t final. I rename with the actual date instead. Then I check share settings. I once sent a doc and forgot to grant access. Twenty minutes later, the client wrote “Requesting access.” Felt unprofessional.
Final thing: open the deliverable on your phone one more time. Because nine out of ten times, the client’s first view is actually their phone, not desktop. If text is overflowing or the video isn’t playing, better that I see before they do.
Handling client feedback after delivery
Even after all these steps, clients find things. I used to get defensive when that happened. Now I log each piece of feedback, sort by whether it’s factual correction, preference change, or unexpected bug. Factual corrections I fix immediately. Preference changes I batch and ask for confirmation. Bugs I investigate before touching the file.
For example, a client once said an email design broke on their iPhone. I tested on my emulator and it looked fine. Only after I borrowed an actual iPhone did I see that Gmail was stripping some CSS inline. No review process would have caught that unless you test on the actual device. Sometimes, you only learn by hitting the wall yourself.
Building a reusable review workflow
After repeating this chaos too many times, I now keep a checklist template. It’s nothing fancy—just a Google Sheet with columns for Stage, Who Reviews, Tool, and Date Done. When a deliverable moves through stages, I tick down the list. It’s not “true project management,” but it saves me from forgetting that second accessibility run.
For beginners, even a paper checklist works. Don’t assume you’ll remember each step. Your brain lies to you when you’re tired. Paper does not. Sometimes the most low tech fix is the best one.
When review tools break unexpectedly
Okay, real story. Last month, my Grammarly connection to Zapier broke completely after months of working fine. No warning, no banner. I only realized when my draft slipped through with three obvious commas missing. I wasted an afternoon manually re enabling an API connection that used to work flawlessly. This is exactly the type of thing that makes you want to throw your laptop across the room.
So yes, even review automation needs review. Which is ridiculous, but that’s the reality. Tools promise structure, then ruin themselves right when you trust them. The only workaround is redundancy. I keep one automation, but I still run a manual pass just in case it sneaks past. It feels paranoid until the day it saves you.