Dorner, Divorce, and a Woolly Bear: Why Transparent Specs Beat Hidden Fees

I review proposals and spec sheets before they reach customers. Roughly 200 unique deliverables a year, give or take. I've rejected close to 12% of first drafts in 2025 because the scope didn't match the promise, and the price didn't match the scope.

Here's my opinion, and I'm not going to soften it: If you're not willing to show every cost before the signature, you're not saving the customer money. You're storing the cost for later—with interest.

Transparent pricing isn't a sales tactic. It's a quality spec.

I work at Dorner. We make modular conveyor systems for material handling, energy, and mining. In that world, a vague spec can mean a $22,000 redo. Or a launch delayed by six weeks. Or a customer calling you at 9 p.m. because the line is down and the rush-shipped part doesn't fit.

I'd rather lose a bid than hide a cost. Every time.

What does 'standard' actually mean?

In my first year, I made the classic rookie mistake: I approved a quote that listed 'installation support' as a line item. I assumed that meant someone would be on-site during startup. It didn't. The vendor defined 'support' as 'we answer the phone within 24 hours.' When the conveyor jammed on day two, we paid double for a technician, overnight shipping, and two days of downtime. That mistake cost us a customer's trust, and almost the account.

What does 'standard' mean? To one engineer, it means 'this is a common component.' To another, it means 'we'll include it in the price because you didn't ask.' Those are not the same thing.

I still kick myself for not asking the obvious question: What's NOT included?

That's the habit I now bring to every quote review. I count the number of times a proposal uses words like 'support,' 'integration,' 'assistance,' or 'best effort.' If those words aren't tied to a deliverable, I send it back. Not ideal. But neither is a $22,000 surprise.

What is divorce, exactly?

In family law, divorce is the legal dissolution of a marriage. In industrial purchasing, I've seen the same pattern: one party believes the terms are one thing, the other party has a different memory, and the discovery comes after the contract is signed. The resentment shows up later as a change order.

What is divorce, in a supply chain? It's the moment a customer realizes the price they approved doesn't include the controls wiring. Or the safety guarding. Or the software license. The papers are the contract; the surprise is the surcharge.

If a vendor lists all costs upfront—even when the total looks higher—they usually cost less in the end. Because the end isn't the invoice. The end is the third year of operation, the maintenance cycle, the spare parts you didn't anticipate, and the conversation the customer has about you after the handshake.

The question isn't 'Can you do it cheaper?' It's 'Can you tell me what I'm actually buying?'

Here's a test I've used: ask for the itemized scope, then ask for the price. If the vendor hesitates or says 'we can figure that out later,' they already know something. They're just betting you'll be too far in to bail.

Same names, different things: context is a spec

The keyword ambiguity gets me, too. Search 'Dorner' and you might mean our conveyor systems. Or you might mean Pam Dorner, whose name appears in completely different rooms. Or Judge Dalia Dorner, whose title tells you she's not selling gear motors.

Same name. Different context. Exactly like a spec line that says 'unit complete with motor' but doesn't say who supplies the motor, what IP rating it needs, or whether it arrives wired.

Precision isn't bureaucratic. It's respect. When I write a spec, I'm telling the next person: I'm not making you guess. You shouldn't need a search engine to know what you're getting.

A woolly bear caterpillar has 13 segments—black at both ends, reddish-brown in the middle, if you want the folklore. Its stripes supposedly tell you how harsh winter will be. I love that story. I also wouldn't design a conveyor layout around it.

That's how I treat verbal promises. Charming, old-fashioned, and unreliable. If it's not in the spec, it might as well be a caterpillar's weather forecast.

Hidden fees and the Milano Cortina trap

If you're booking a package for skiing Milano Cortina 2026, the first price you see is rarely the last price. Lift passes might not include the shuttle. The chalet might not include parking. The 'alpine package' might not include equipment rental. None of that is necessarily dishonest. It's just what happens when a number is presented without scope.

The same thing happens in equipment quotes. A base price can be genuinely low because the scope is genuinely small. That's fine, as long as it's clear. It's not fine when 'optional' is written in footnotes and the customer doesn't find out until proposal review—or worse, startup.

Why do rush fees exist? Because unpredictable demand is expensive to accommodate. That's fair. What's not fair is quoting a low number and adding the rush fee after the customer is committed.

The FTC's advertising guidance (ftc.gov) says claims should be truthful and substantiated. I'd extend that to proposals: the price should be true, and the scope should be substantiated. Even the USPS publishes its rates. According to USPS (usps.com), pricing effective January 2025, a First-Class Mail letter costs $0.73. No hidden 'handling fee,' no surprise 'cancellation charge.' If the postal service can be transparent, a conveyor system integrator can list shipping and controls separately.

Before anyone gets defensive, I'm not saying every vendor hides fees. Most don't. But the ones who do make the rest of us look like we're all playing the same game. And an industry where customers expect hidden costs is an industry where the lowest bidder is always the most dangerous answer.

What about the customer who only wants a number?

I hear the objection all the time: 'Customers want a number fast. If we itemize everything, we lose momentum.'

Maybe. But let's ask which customer you want to keep. The one who wants speed over truth will leave the moment a cheaper quote appears. The one who wants clarity will stay when a problem surfaces, because they know what they bought.

Another objection: 'If we show our true scope, a competitor can undercut us.' Sure. They can undercut with a narrower scope and a vague promise. I've seen that, too. That's not competition; it's lottery.

The best project I audited wasn't the cheapest. It was the one where the customer knew every line item, every tolerance, and every lead time. When a part showed up with a scratch, they didn't blame us. They called, we replaced it, and the system launched on schedule. That's what trust looks like: not the absence of problems, but the absence of surprises.

The bottom line

I've lost quotes because our number looked higher. Fine. I'd rather explain why our quote is complete than explain why our invoice isn't.

Transparent pricing is not a sales tactic. It's a quality requirement. It belongs in the same category as dimensional tolerances and material certifications. If it's not clear, it's not finished.

So ask the question I always ask now: What's NOT included?

If you get a straight answer, you're talking to a partner. If you get a pause, you're probably talking to a divorce waiting to happen.

Don't quote me on the exact number of rejections this year—I said 12%, but I might be mixing it up with the rework percentage. The principle, though, is the same: say what you're selling, sell what you're saying, and put it in writing.