THE CUSTOMER I KEPT THAT I SHOULDN'T HAVE

I didn't need to fire them.

I needed to make them matter less.

For decades, Sasol was our anchor client. We built gas pipeline systems for them. High-pressure meter facilities. Pressure reduction stations. Turnkey, start to finish—earthworks to welding, coating, concrete, hydrotesting, commissioning.

Our performance was unrivaled. They knew it. We knew it. Everyone in the industry knew it.

Some years, Sasol accounted for 30% of our revenue. Add in specialist refinery projects and that could climb to 40%.

Being Sasol's preferred contractor meant something. Status. Credibility. Proof that we could deliver at the highest level.

It also meant I was vulnerable in ways I didn't want to admit.

What preferred status actually costs

The space started getting crowded. Less sophisticated contractors entered the market, competing on price for the simpler work.

We could still compete. But our niche shifted to larger, more complex projects—the kind that required significant operating capital.

I was comfortable with that. We had the capability. We had the track record. We had the relationship.

Then something inside Sasol changed.

Payment terms that had been 45 days stretched to 120 days. Some invoices took six months to collect.

Suddenly, the larger projects we were built to handle became a cash flow liability. We had to factor in the cost of money. Our prices increased to cover it. Our profitability decreased anyway.

The work was still there. The relationship was still there. But the economics had shifted in ways that made every project harder to justify.

The mistake I didn't see

The problem wasn't Sasol. They were doing what large companies do—optimizing their cash flow, squeezing supplier terms, managing procurement differently as internal pressures changed.

The problem was me.

I'd let one client become 30-40% of my revenue because having Sasol as a preferred customer fed something beyond profit. It was validation. Status. The ability to say "we're Sasol's go-to contractor" in a market where that meant something.

My ego liked that more than I wanted to admit.

What I should have done—years earlier—was diversify aggressively enough that Sasol represented less than 10% of total revenue.

Not because they were a bad client. Because 40% concentration on any client is a strategic weakness, no matter how good the relationship is.

I knew this. I'd known it for years.

But I didn't act on it because I was comfortable. The work was familiar. The relationship was established. The status was appealing.

Comfort and ego kept me in a position I knew was risky.

What finally changed

I started looking across borders. Found clients in other African markets eager to work with us.

Some wanted full EPC solutions—engineering, procurement, construction—which gave us an advantage and added revenue streams.

Most had exceptional payment terms. Thirty days. Forty-five days. Cash flow that actually worked.

Not all of it went perfectly. BOST Ghana turned into a significant write-off that I'm still carrying. If I could refuse any customer, it would be them.

But overall, the shift worked. Diversifying across borders reduced our dependence on any single client and opened markets where our capabilities were more valued—and better compensated.

The business became more resilient. More profitable. Less vulnerable to one client's internal changes.

I should have done it five years earlier.

What I learned

Customer concentration isn't just a financial risk. It's an ego trap.

When you're the preferred supplier to a prestigious client, it feels like success. It becomes part of your identity, your market positioning, your story about what makes your business valuable.

That feeling—being the go-to contractor for the biggest name in your market—is seductive.

It makes you tolerate things you shouldn't tolerate. Payment terms that squeeze your cash flow. Pricing pressure that erodes margin. Strategic dependence that limits your options.

You tell yourself the relationship is worth it. And maybe it is—if that client represents 10% of your revenue.

At 40%, it's not a relationship. It's a dependency.

Why this matters for you

If you have a client that represents more than 20% of your revenue, you know you should diversify.

You've probably known it for years.

The question is: why haven't you?

Sometimes it's operational—you don't have capacity to pursue other markets while servicing the anchor client.

But often, it's psychological. That client validates something. Their name on your client list means something. The relationship feels secure in ways that chasing new business doesn't.

I get that. I lived it.

But security that depends on one client isn't security. It's exposure dressed up as stability.

If you're thinking about transition—about selling or stepping back—customer concentration is one of the first things buyers will examine.

Not because they don't trust the relationship. Because they understand that any business overly dependent on one client is fragile, regardless of how strong that relationship appears.

Fixing it takes time. Longer than you think.

If that's a conversation you need to have—about how to reduce concentration, how to diversify without losing what you've built, or whether a buyer would value the business differently if that concentration were resolved—I understand it from lived experience.

Not from theory. From spending years in exactly that position and finally doing something about it.