On an otherwise ordinary afternoon in the mid 1990’s, I walk into a small office near work. I have never been here before, though I’ve driven past many times. We will meet for about 30 minutes. First, they escort me into a small room with a table surrounded by a handful of chairs. I sit on one side and a professionally dressed woman sits on the other. Next, she places a thick document on the table, more accurately measured in inches than pages. Finally, we start the process of signing these documents, as she points to specific places and instructs to sign, initial, or date. Meanwhile, she assures me that I’ll have an opportunity to read through everything, but we didn’t schedule nearly enough time.
During that meeting, a voice silently screamed in my head, “You should not sign anything you that have not read or fully understand.” This voice didn’t stop me from signing page after page, legally committing myself to a contract. For all I knew, I might’ve legally committed to donating a kidney. The only thought that alleviated my anxiety was simply, “Millions of people have gone through this before. This is very normal; you’ll be fine.”
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