The Importance of Adobe Garamond

I had been extraordinarily depressed all day when we walked into Kinkos to pick up the bound copies of my thesis, so I was terrified to even look at the things, not knowing how I might react. But I’m glad that I did look, because Kinkos screwed it up. I had included fonts for them to use on my CD and they hadn’t used them. So, instead of Adobe Garamond, they printed it in plain old Times New Roman. Which wouldn’t have been a problem if it hadn’t totally screwed up the page count and my table of contents.

In the parking lot, I fought with myself over whether to complain. But with each page I flipped by, it became increasingly obvious that what they had printed for me was simply not acceptable. With more than a little encouragement from Stephanie, I walked back into the Kinkos and calmly explained my situation.

They did what they should have done in the first place: they let me take a look at it on screen before they started it up again. It took a couple of tries, but finally the fonts got installed and the thing looked beautiful again. They promised to have me new copies by the end of the night and that was good enough for me.

So, we went to a park for a while, watching parents play with their kids and people playing with their dogs, and then we went home. Stef went off to do some excercising while I sat my lazy ass down in front of the computer. When 7 PM rolled around, I went back to Kinkos and picked up the corrected copies of my thesis. They looked great. I was happy.

The whole experience was thought-provoking. At what point in time did I become the guy who lets everyone walk all over him. I mean, I’ve never been tremendously assertive, but questioning what I should do about the thesis today was something I never should have been doing. I should have marched right back in there as soon as I saw a problem. I wondered to myself, “What has made you so weak?”

And I thought to myself that it was the two-plus years I spent in that horrible job that did it to me. It was the way in which business was conducted there, the way in which I, and many others, were treated with a total lack of respect. I was made to feel worthless five days a week for two years of my life.

But I’m starting to remember who I was before that job, before the year’s worth of unemployment that preceded it… I’m starting to remember that I once had balls, that, even if I wasn’t assertive on a day-to-day basis, I was once capable of getting shit done, and of getting what I wanted out of life.

That guy tried to break me, in the way that he tries to break every person who works for him, but it didn’t work. I’m still here. Yes. I am still here.