When signing our name on anything, we’re often advised from a very young age to read every single word that precedes it carefully, sometimes even twice. But we’re mostly urged to read the fine print. Because that’s where the catch is hidden. Where you can hardly see or notice it. It is a paradox that the most important terms are often written in a font size that you can barely see. But sometimes that too shows how shady certain requisites are. It’s like trading something illicit; you need to do it out of sight.
In everyday life we constantly deal with situations that entail a fine script. From the contract terms you sign with a telecommunications company that seeks to restrict you for a certain time period, to the mere fact that the furniture you purchased will be delivered only onto the pavement of your building no matter how bulky or fragile they may be. Sometimes those fine prints are so small they are inapprehensible even to those who wrote them.
But you have to deal with it all. Because it’s more difficult to prove you’re right than simply play along and get the job done. Wearingly, we learn to acknowledge that some things are not worth the hassle, the torment and the psychological nerve-wrecking war that we alone implore on ourselves.
We too have a fine line we push ourselves to the limit of. With everything we experience, we extend that line a bit further and train our minds to be more prepared for the concealed clauses that reign our routines.