I appreciate direct communication.
When being direct means I’ll say something someone doesn’t like,
most of the time sometimes I know well enough to avoid saying what I’m thinking. But whenever possible I think it’s easier to be honest and to the point.
For example, today as I was talking about a recent airport experience and all the sights and smells of my last trip, I admitted to my husband that I had discovered a TSA agent who looks like Eric Bana. Wait, that’s an example of when one should not be forthright with information.
Anyway, for those of you whose lives would be enriched by this information, Eric Bana the TSA Agent works at Dulles International and I’m sure if you ask nicely you can get a pat-down. You’re welcome.
On the other hand, there are many times when being direct is helpful or when it seems like it would just make more sense. While I do hold clever advertising in high regard, I’d rather do without the rest of it. Just tell me you want me to buy your crap and then I’ll decide.
I have a point here, somewhere.
Today I mistyped Arial (Who knew “Areola” wasn’t a font?) in the font prompt in Microsoft Word and received the message, “That font is unavailable. Do you want to use it anyway?”
I actually stopped for a moment and scratched my head as I considered the possibilities. Is Microsoft Word asking me to make up my own font? I can do that. It’ll be like Wingdings or something, my own little code made up entirely of boobies.
Or is the prompt just an attempt at finding a friendly way to tell me, “You can’t do that.” If it is, why don’t they just come out and say, “You’re not Pablo Picasso and no one here appreciates your creativity so stop making up fonts, moron!” or even just “NO.”?
Why is there an invitation to use a font that doesn’t exist? You would never invite someone to dinner and say, “There is no food, but would you like to eat dinner anyway?” Well, maybe, if it were like this.
Wait, what was I talking about, again?
I think Bangarang would be a fun font. Somebody get on that.