I’ve made pricing pages I was quietly proud of. Clean grids. Calm colours. A monthly/annual toggle that felt clever until it pushed the CTA just enough to break the fold on Safari. In screenshots, they looked convincing.
In practice, they behaved like polite doormen who never actually opened the door.
The first time a pricing page embarrassed me
We launched a tidy redesign on a Tuesday. By Friday, conversions were flat, support kept fielding “what’s included again?”, and sales were spending the first ten minutes of every call just explaining tiers. No one said the page was ugly. They said it was unclear. Which is worse. An ugly page that’s clear will still sell. A pretty page that whispers will not.
I opened the file and realised I’d built a catalogue, not a decision. Thirty rows of micro‑differences. Tooltips everywhere. Three primary CTAs because I couldn’t choose which conversation to have. It wasn’t a pricing page; it was my indecision with rounded corners.
What a pricing page quietly says (about you and me)
We pretend it’s about money. It’s about confidence.
- Tooltips on every other line say: we don’t trust our words.
- Every plan including everything says: we’re afraid to choose.
- Starter/Pro/Enterprise cloned from the neighbour says: we hope imitation reduces risk.
Buyers read all of that, even if they don’t say it aloud.
Three mistakes I won’t repeat
1) Feature bingo
I once shipped a table with so many rows you needed a packed lunch to reach the footer. Buyers didn’t compare; they postponed. If you need binoculars to tell plans apart, you’re not selling—you’re daring people to open a spreadsheet.
2) CTA soup
Book demo. Try free. Talk to sales. Compare plans. All above the fold. That isn’t helpful; it’s a hostage situation. A pricing page needs one clear next step. Two at a push. Everything else belongs lower down or in a footer.
3) The week‑one ambush
Listing a feature on the table and then locking it behind “upgrade to unlock” two days later. Yes, short‑term ARPU ticked up. Trust fell through the floor. People remember the wall more than the upgrade.
What I aim for now
Tiers by outcome, not headcount
For launching. For growing. For scaling teams. Speak to the job that changes when they buy—not their job titles.
One safe recommendation
Highlight a default with “Best for most teams”. It’s not hand‑holding; it’s a shortcut past decision fatigue.
Three value stories, not thirty rows
Group features by Collaboration / Automation / Insight. If a line doesn’t fit a story, it’s either not core or it needs clearer language.
Transparent logic
If you’re usage‑based, show the maths with two simple examples. If you’re tiered, state what actually changes and why. No riddles. No asterisks pretending to be clarity.
No surprise maths
Let people estimate the bill without handing over an email. Radical, yes. Also respectful.
A tiny chooser
“Not sure? Answer three questions.” It’s not cute; it’s humane.
One primary action
Start free or Talk to sales. Pick. The other can be secondary. Two primaries is cowardice dressed as choice.
A short story with numbers (and sleep)
We helped a team whose page looked handsome and converted like soup. We didn’t reskin. We reframed: rebuilt tiers around real journeys in the data; rewrote features in human; added a tiny chooser; moved limits into a plain “What’s included, exactly” panel with actual numbers; removed the “included*” bait entirely. Six weeks later: conversions up 22%, support tickets down, the founder texting that they were finally sleeping. I’ll take boring improvements over shiny experiments most days.
If I had your page for a week
Day 1 — Rename the tiers
Outcomes and who it’s for in one line each. No poetry.
Day 2 — Cull the noise
Three clusters max. Anything with asterisks goes into a readable Limits panel.
Day 3 — Pick a default
Mark it as “Best for most teams”. Stand by it.
Day 4 — Reduce CTAs
One primary, one secondary. Everything else moves south.
Day 5 — Show the bill
Two worked examples. No calculator required.
Day 6 — Add the chooser
Three questions; one suggestion. It should feel like help, not a quiz.
Day 7 — Instrument and listen
Track plan clicks, time on page, chooser completion, and the “I thought this included…” tickets. Fix what those reveal first.
Copy I actually ship
Plan label — For growing teams
Why — Ship faster, keep control.Cluster — Automation
Line — Remove handoffs, not oversight.Limits — What’s included, exactly
Items — Requests/month, seats included, data retention. (Numbers, not vibes.)Helper — Not sure? Answer 3 questions → we’ll suggest a plan.
One smile per page, maximum. Pricing is a commitment, not stand‑up.
Quick tests I like
30‑second test — Can someone explain their total cost aloud in thirty seconds? If not, fix the page, not the prospect.
Blindfold test — Hide logos. If your page is indistinguishable from competitors’, you don’t have pricing, you have camouflage.
Regret test — Pull last month’s “I thought this included…” tickets. If you hear the same line twice, the table owes an answer.
Founder note (with love)
If your pricing page hasn’t moved in a year, it’s leaking—money, confidence, and time you’re spending on calls a clear table should close. The fix isn’t a rebrand. It’s an hour a day for a week.
Choose outcomes. Pick a default. Tell the truth about limits. Cut the extra buttons. Show the bill. Then stop fiddling and watch the numbers. If it sells, keep it. If it confuses, don’t defend it—rewrite it.
The pricing page is where trust does the paperwork. Make it earn its keep.
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