Feb 8, 2007


So I'm having some jackets printed this week. The design is pretty cool, the green one with the eyeball I posted a little while ago. There's a front to the design also. I haven't seen the jackets. The client picked the style, and I have a good idea of the cut and fit. So I send the designs with my usual control-freak sheet of notes, arrow, circles and directions for them to follow. I once had a t-shirt printer throw this sheet away as I handed it to him. They fucked up the entire order. "Yeah, we don't take these."

On my current notes sheet, I am very specific about how I need the design to sit, but because I have no actual measurements on the garment, I need the printer to advise me on the actual size. Based, of course, on my notes. I've just recently realized why they don't want these sheets. It's liability. If you just fill out their standard forms, which have no options besides CENTERED, and SHIRT-POCKET, it limits their liability, and their potential need to reprint when their part-time inksniffers fuck up 500 shirts. I don't give a shit, I keep sending them and I'm rabid about making sure the printer understands what the fuck's going on.

This week, the kid that I talked to at this place in California sounded pretty competent. He'd looked over the notes and understood what I was saying. We both had agreed that the problem was that the jackets were in California, and the designer was in Massachusetts. On Monday, he calls looking for the size again. I wasn't mean to him, I understand how unanswered questions plus a busy shop can be confusing.

"I told you, I'd need you to advise me on the size, based on my notes. Remember?"
"Oh well, we can't do that, we need the numbers from you."
"Well, how about you make a suggestion," I reply. "And I'll look at it over here, and if it looks OK, I'll just say that number back to you."
"Well...um let me put you on with my supervisor."
"OK." So he attempts to put me on the telephone with a screaming beast hag bitchmonster. I'm not 100% sure, but I assume it's the supervisor. And this is what I hear:
"I'm not talking to him!"
"But he just needs--"

At which point, I say to the kid, because I suspect he still can hear me, "Hey, tell her I can hear her." He inadvertently laughs, which I'm sure doesn't help the situation.
I hear her say, "Tell him to go to dub-dub-dub dot american apparel dot-net." I type that in to my computer. The kid comes back on the phone.

"Hey man, they have sizes on the american apparel site. American apparel dot net."
"OK. Cool--"
"Hey!" she screams at him. "Double-you, double-you, double-you!"

He calls me today with new, slightly smaller sizes. Turns out the sizes I sent will incur an extra cost. The print will now be about 90% the size I asked for. I tell him that's AOK with me, he says thanks and we hang up.

I need to just start printing my own shirts.

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