Several months ago I received an important looking 8×10 envelope in the mail from a certain financial institution. Inside was a 42-page booklet with the intriguing title General Account Agreement and Disclosure Document which I’ll refer to as GAADD from here on out because I have a word limit. I wish the financial institution had one too.

There was a form for me to sign saying I’d read the GAADD and agreed to be bound by the terms laid out in it. That was the only option. There was no place to write, “I haven’t read this because it’s overwhelming. Please send a brief summary in large print.”

The bank that sent the GAADD gave me 30 days to sign and return the form or risk my “services being disrupted.” I wasn’t sure what would happen to my account if my services were disrupted so I sat right down and read the GAADD. I needed a full week, a magnifying glass and a dictionary of financial terms to do it. But I’m proud to say that after studying it carefully, I’ve become something of an expert on the GAADD of this particular financial institution. Ask me anything and I’ll answer confidently, “I have no idea.”

Because, of course, I didn’t read it. What I really did was flip through the booklet and read a few lines here and there just to see what I was up against. Not only was it written in itsy-bitsy print, it contained phrases like, “the risk of lack of calculation or dissemination of underlying index value or intraday indicative value.” When I read that, I had to put the GAADD aside and go lie down.

I didn’t think of it again until I came across it in my jungle of an office long after the deadline. Uh-oh! Were my services being disrupted at that very moment? A financial advisor I know told me not to worry. He told me to just sign the form and send it in. He said no one, including him, actually reads GAADDS, let alone understands them.

Somehow I didn’t find that reassuring. But I took his advice. And since then I’ve been wondering what I agreed to. Paying higher fees? Helping with the financial institution’s yard work one day a week? Swabbing the deck on their CEO’s yacht?

Besides, it made a liar out of me. I picture the big bank hauling me into court for failing to do something I agreed to do when I signed the form. There I’ll be on the stand while their lawyer screams at me, “But you said you read the GAAD. Were you lying?”

I’ll blubber, “Yes, but…but…”

But then I’ll think of all the times in my life I’ve been asked by big companies to sign documents I couldn’t possibly understand. And suddenly I’ll be filled with self-righteous rage. I’ll shake my finger at the bank representatives who came to watch the trial and I’ll say, “But you made me lie! You threatened me with disrupted services! You sent me a 42-page booklet written in Greek and print the size of ant droppings. You didn’t intend for me to read it, did you? What are you trying to hide?”

It will be one of those dramatic TV courtroom moments like on Matlock. And the jury and the courtroom audience will clap and cheer because they know I’m right. And the judge will say, “order in the court.” And then there will be a law that big companies must summarize their documents in plain English and 12-point type. And I’ll be a hero. Until then, I’ll be wondering what I agreed to.

Dorothy Rosby is the author of I Used to Think I Was Not That Bad and Then I Got to Know Me Better and other books. Contact her at www.dorothyrosby.com/contact.