Half the Quotes Had to Go: A Recruiter's Audit of My Own Testimonials
Photo: printed papers with red pen edits on wooden desk close up, via images.stockcake.com
Last spring I did something I recommend to every creative professional and have never once heard anyone admit to doing: I printed out my testimonials page, sat down with a red pen, and read it as if I were a hiring manager who had forty other portfolios to review before lunch.
I deleted eleven of nineteen quotes that afternoon. This is how I decided which ones, and what the survivors taught me.
The Filler Test
The first thing the audit revealed was how much of my social proof was what I now call applause, not evidence. Quotes like "Alexsandra was a pleasure to work with!" and "Truly talented and so easygoing!" felt wonderful to receive and do almost nothing to persuade a stranger. A skeptical reader translates every one of those as the client liked her personality, which is not the same as the work performed.
The recruiter's question is brutally simple: does this sentence contain a claim about outcomes, specificity, or transformation? "She rebuilt our onboarding flow and trial signups went up thirty percent in a quarter" survives. "A joy to collaborate with" does not. Kindness is not a credential.
I also learned to distrust the superlative-to-substance ratio. If a quote contains three exclamation points and zero numbers, it is decoration. If it contains one reluctant sentence and a specific result, it is a salesperson.
The Three Lines That Stayed
What remained after the purge shared a shape. One quote described a problem I solved in the client's own vocabulary — the words they'd actually used in the kickoff call. One came from a client in a different industry than my usual roster, quietly proving range. The third was the shortest: two sentences, one of which was "I'd hire her again tomorrow." Specificity, credibility, and intent to repurchase. That's the whole formula.
Notice what these have in common: they answer objections, not just offer praise. A good testimonial is preemptive rebuttal. It speaks to the doubt sitting in the visitor's chest — will this person understand my weird industry? will this drag on? — and answers it with someone else's voice.
The Awkward Ask, Revised
Deleting filler meant I needed replacements, which meant going back to happy clients with a request most people find uncomfortable: not just "could you write me a testimonial," but "could you write me a useful one." Here is the etiquette that worked for me, delivered without apology and with genuine warmth.
First, ask while the result is still fresh — within a month of delivery, not a year. Second, do the work for them: send two or three specific prompts, like "What was the situation before we started?" and "What changed afterward, in numbers if you have them?" People are far more generous than we assume when given a structure. Third, never ask a client to invent enthusiasm; ask them to describe what happened. The enthusiasm is already in the facts.
And yes, I did ask one longtime client to revise a glowing quote that was pure personality and no proof. I framed it as wanting to represent our project accurately, sent her the two prompts above, and she came back with the best line on my site. Nobody has ever been offended. Clients, in my experience, want their words to work as hard as the rest of your portfolio does.
The Ongoing Habit
The purge is now an annual ritual, scheduled alongside my portfolio review every January. Praise accumulates like paper clutter; every quote felt earned at the time, and none of them feel expendable. But a testimonials page is not a trophy case. It is an argument, and every weak quote dilutes the strong ones.
Cut the applause. Keep the evidence. The three lines that survive will do more work than the nineteen they replaced.
