Costing a Job Including Your Hours

I spent forty years on site and another ten in the classroom, and if there’s one thing that grates on my nerves more than a dull chisel, it’s the way people treat their own labor. I see young lads and even seasoned makers getting tangled up in expensive software and "consultant" jargon, trying to find a magic formula for how to price your time in a workshop. They think they need a spreadsheet with fifty columns to justify a day's work, but they’re just spinning their wheels and losing sight of the wood. You don't need a degree in economics to know when you're being cheated, yet most people treat their pricing like a blunt saw—hacking away at their margins until there’s nothing left to show for it.

I’m not here to sell you a complicated system or a subscription to some fancy management app. I’m going to give you the straight truth, based on decades of actual sawdust and sweat, on how to value your hands and your head. We’re going to strip away the fluff and look at the honest math of a working shop. By the time we’re done, you’ll know exactly how to set a rate that respects your skill and keeps the lights on, without needing a manual for every single movement you make.

Calculating Hourly Labor Rates Without Cutting Your Own Throat

Most lads I taught at the college make the same mistake: they look at what the bloke down the road is charging and try to match it. That’s a recipe for disaster. If you only charge for the time your hands are actually moving a plane or a chisel, you aren't running a business; you're just paying for the privilege of working. You have to start by accounting for indirect costs—the rent, the electricity, and even the bits of sandpaper you go through without thinking. If those aren't baked into your rate, you’re just chipping away at your own savings.

When you're finally calculating hourly labor rates, you need to build in a buffer. I don't mean a guess; I mean a deliberate margin that covers the time you spend cleaning the bench or sharpening your irons. A proper workshop profit margin formula isn't about greed; it's about ensuring that when a machine breaks or a blade snaps, you aren't staring at a pile of unpaid bills. You have to value your expertise, not just your sweat.

Estimating Project Duration With Surgical Precision

The biggest mistake I see young lads making—and I saw it plenty when I was teaching at the college—is thinking a job is just the time the saw is running. They look at a piece of oak, see the joinery required, and give a time estimate that’s far too lean. They forget about the setup, the sharpening, and the inevitable moment a grain direction fights back. If you aren't estimating project duration with a bit of a buffer, you aren't pricing a job; you're making a donation.

I always tell my students to break a task down into its smallest components. Don't just say "making a drawer"; say "milling the sides, cutting the dovetails, and fitting the bottom." When you start accounting for indirect costs like cleaning up shavings or moving heavy stock, you'll see how quickly those "quick" jobs bleed your time dry. A precise estimate isn't about being slow; it’s about knowing exactly how much life you’re putting into the wood. If you don't respect the clock, the clock will eventually run you out of business.

Five Ways to Stop Leaving Money on the Sawdust

• Account for the 'Sharpening Time.' You aren't just charging for the moment the chisel hits the wood; you're charging for the twenty minutes it took to get that edge perfect. If you aren't billing for tool maintenance and setup, you're working for free.
• Build in a buffer for the 'Unexpected Knot.' Every piece of timber has a temperamental grain or a hidden knot that'll slow you down. If you price your job based on a perfect run, you'll find yourself working through your dinner just to break even.
• Stop discounting your expertise like it's a cheap bit of pine. People aren't just paying for the hour it takes you to finish a joint; they're paying for the forty years it took you to learn how to do it in five minutes.
• Factor in your overheads before you even pick up a pencil. Electricity, rent, and even the oil for your sharpening stones don't pay for themselves. If your rate doesn't cover the lights staying on, you're running a hobby, not a business.
• Value your physical longevity. A machine can run all day, but your hands and your back have a finite number of good years left. Price your labor with the understanding that your time is a precious, non-renewable resource.

Set Your Edge and Hold It

At the end of the day, pricing your work isn't about being greedy; it’s about being honest with yourself and the craft. You’ve looked at your overheads, you’ve accounted for the time it takes to actually move the wood, and you’ve stopped guessing at your margins. If you don't factor in the cost of your own expertise, you aren't running a business—you're just working for free under a pile of sawdust. Remember, a well-calculated rate is like a well-set plane; it ensures that every movement you make is purposeful and profitable, rather than just a way to burn through your daylight.

Don't let the fear of a high quote stop you from charging what you are truly worth. I spent forty years on site learning that a man who respects his tools usually respects his time, too. If you approach your pricing with the same meticulous care you use to hone a chisel, you’ll find that the right clients won't just accept your price—they’ll value the precision that comes with it. Stop trying to compete with the mass-produced rubbish and start valuing the steady hand that makes it. Get your numbers sharp, and don't you dare let them go blunt.

About Callum Reith-Sowande

A sharp hand tool is faster than a blunt power tool. I keep trying to prove it.