The most operationally important detail here is timing, not the role definitions themselves. A permission change that only takes effect the next time a session refreshes — rather than the instant it's saved — creates a window where a just-downgraded editor could still publish, and for a business handling a compliance-sensitive product like a loan, even a few minutes of stale access is a genuine exposure. Role changes need to be enforced at every request, checked fresh each time, rather than cached in a way that lags behind current state.
For an agency managing several client accounts under one workspace, permission boundaries need to be airtight: one client's assigned team must never see or touch another client's content, drafts, or analytics, even by accident through a poorly scoped default. This isn't a tidiness concern — a client discovering a competitor's account manager could have seen their draft campaigns is a genuine trust failure, and access scoping exists to make that structurally impossible rather than depending on everyone remembering to be careful.
Role design also has a practical trade-off worth thinking through: giving every team member direct-publish rights removes the friction of approval, but also removes its safety net. A small business with one owner and one junior hire might reasonably want that hire's role to require approval on everything, since post volume is low enough that the extra step costs little, while an agency running high volume across many clients might need a more nuanced mix depending on how established each staff member is.