 I am glad we have the rare opportunity to see him share some of his insights today. Please welcome Christopher Slay. Thank you. In 2009, Font Bureau, one of the most established and respected font foundries in the world, filed an infringement claim against NBC Universal, claiming that NBC was using font bureau fonts without a proper licensing agreement, and they estimated the value to be, quote, not less than $2 million. Obviously, it captured the attention of the type industry, but more significantly, it was big enough to propagate through the major news outlets and likely cause thousands of corporate lawyers and executives to ask and panic. Fonts have licenses. In my experience, it's rare for any company to spend much time considering the state of their font licensing. Never mind having it jolted into the consciousness of newsreaders around the world. Licensing is pretty much the business of type. So when you think about it that way, you can understand why type professionals consider the stakes much higher than the typical type user. For type designers and foundries, the practice and enforcement of their licensing is existential. I have to begin with this disclaimer, which you'll usually hear when someone starts talking about type licensing. I am not a lawyer. It's actually an important disclaimer because I don't want you telling anyone Christopher Sly said this was okay. I really do want you to read your license and make your own decisions about that. But aside from keeping me and you out of trouble, I say this because I want you to know that I'm not really up here as an interpreter of type licensing agreements or illegal authority. I started out as a humble software consumer. And then I became a type designer and font software developer and eventually I got into the business of licensing type. And when you work with font software from all these different angles for any length of time, you accumulate a lot of opinions and experience with type licensing. And I'm just here to share some of my thoughts about that with you. Type is many things, but in various ways type is intellectual property. And while you don't need to know much about that in order to deal with licensing agreements, it's great background to have. Type is something a person or a team of people produces. It's a creative work. It's often a personal one like a song or a story. But it's also a tool like a piano or a typewriter. It's used by people to create other things. As intellectual property, an original work of creativity or craftsmanship type has different dimensions which are or can be protected in different ways. A type designer draws letters and when the letters are used together they form words and sentences. And all together that becomes a typeface. Often that typeface is greater than the sum of its parts. Think about how something like the letter O or I in a particular typeface can be hard to distinguish from some other typefaces. But by viewing collections of letters together, a personality becomes evident. That's the typeface design and it's the first piece of intellectual property. Some might call different styles like light or bold weights, different typefaces, but I like to use the word here to describe the design itself. Usually a typeface design is identified by a name, no matter what particular weight or width it's presented in. So that's why it makes sense to me. Minion is minion whether you're looking at minion bold or minion italic. Those type styles all work together as a single typeface family. In the US there's one good way to protect or assert authorship of a typeface design. That's a patent, specifically a US design patent. Applying for a patent is onerous and it's costly, but in the US it's the best way to protect an actual type design. It's relatively uncommon, so I won't spend any more time on it here, except to say it was interesting to be involved with filing them on Adobe's behalf since the patent is solely focused on the design, meaning the appearance of letters. I remember being surprised to find that I couldn't search the US patent database for an Adobe typeface by its name. Like you can see in this example, getting a type design patent is pretty much just saying, here's a new typeface that looks like this. I already mentioned the name you give to a typeface, and that's another important piece of intellectual property. Names are protected as trademarks, whether you register them or not. A trademark is a surprisingly powerful way to protect font IP because a lot of a typeface's recognition value is tied to its name. Finally, there's the actual product, the thing that a customer gets so they can use the typeface, which we usually call a font. In the past, this was one or more physical pieces that were used to print or render type on a physical medium. Today, of course, it's software, and that software might express the typeface design, but also other kinds of functionality that affects the rendering of letters or the layout of text, things like instructions for layout features, which might substitute one form of a letter for another, for example. Digital fonts, because they're made up of written code, are protected by copyright. Here's a really simple example of written font instructions, although copyright protects both machine code and source code. If you made an unauthorized copy of that font, you'd be violating the copyright. And if you've looked at a font file, you've probably seen a copyright statement like this. A lot of people see this and assume it identifies the owner of the typeface, but it should identify the author of the font software. Most of the time, that's the same as the typeface owner, but not always. For example, what if someone writes a font program for someone else's typeface design? For years, Adobe created the font software for many of monotypes' typeface designs and retained the copyright for it. Even today, I think you can still buy a monotype-owned typeface from monotype and find an Adobe copyright notice in the font. That's because Adobe actually produced the font software. So a font's copyright notice is not always a reliable way to identify who owns the typeface or even who sold you the font. The typeface, excuse me, the type business overlaps in some ways with other creative products or digital assets like music or stock photography. As digital music is broken away from physical media, I've been fascinated by the books and articles written about the modern music business which often offers perspective and insight for the type business. There are really all kinds of parallels between music and type from the slow decline and perceived value to pervasive piracy and especially when the discussion turns to distribution and revenue, the business model. Musicians want to make a living creating music and that usually means distributing their music to lots of people and getting a fair share of the money from it. The discussion about the effectiveness and fairness of that can be pretty similar to for both music and type. But beyond that, an actual font for the person paying to use it is not something that is passively consumed and that's very different from the music business. Sure, people enjoy looking at type but they pay to use it, not to look at it. Instead, type is used productively in all kinds of ways, sometimes to create things that are consumed, sometimes as part of things that create other things. And very rarely does anyone talk about music licensing. Yes, music licensing is a thing but the average music consumer is not usually asked to sign a licensing agreement in order to listen to music because its consumption is fairly straightforward, copyright does a decent job of protecting music. So if someone tells you fonts are just like music or fonts are completely different from music, I don't think they've thought it through. The licensing needs of each are going to be pretty different. Ultimately, the best way to understand type licensing is to understand type as type and not as music or anything else. I'm sure you know that movable type began as a tangible product. Letters were carved into metal or wood, duplicated and sold as sets, also known as fonts. It took time for this craft to evolve from an undertaking for private presses in churches or governments or universities into a business designed to sell type to lots of people. Once type was truly released into the world, interest in protecting it as intellectual property was inevitable. By the time of the Industrial Revolution, the design and sale of type was a thriving profitable business for lots of people. Through the 20th century and into the 1980s, proprietary physical typesetting systems were produced and popularized, purchasing fonts meant getting something that only worked with a particular typesetting system. And it was probably a significant investment for the customer, too. At the same time, the companies that built and sold these typesetting systems created more value for them by employing type designers to create new and interesting typefaces. And that was a significant investment by the companies doing so. As a result, the profession of type design during this time exploded. So when desktop publishing appeared in the 1980s, built on this foundation of Adobe's post-cript language and the digital font format created to work with it, the companies that owned these huge catalogs of typefaces like Monotype or Linotype or ITC began to convert their fonts into software, followed eventually by dozens of newly minted independent type designers. And unlike in the past, now just about anyone could become a typesetter using a post-cript printer and post-cript fonts. Maybe in the old industry of trained typesetters, printers, and publishers, this idea of type as a valuable intellectual property came with the job. But in the desktop publishing era, the new world of software users saw type quite differently. What makes type licensing so confounding to so many people today? I'll toss out a theory about that. As old as type is today, a type license is essentially a software license. Very much like that thing that comes along with a software application like Photoshop or Excel, but with an application, people don't worry so much about the minutiae of the license. For everyday use, they are probably following the license terms. And for anyone who ever took the time to peruse the license for an application they were using, they probably didn't find much to suggest otherwise. In other words, software users got used to ignoring software licenses early on. I think because they came to find there wasn't much in the license they really had to worry about. But they didn't realize later that font licenses had evolved to have some important terms and restrictions. The problem is that while font software often adopts the license model of other software, it's now much easier to inadvertently use fonts outside what the license allows. The first PostScript fonts were really just licensed for one thing, printing. Their only purpose was to be downloaded to or embedded in a PostScript printer. So the license would have permitted print output and it would have allowed the buyer to install them in or download them to one or more printers. So by today's standards, those first font licenses for digital fonts were incredibly simple. In 1994, the relevant part of this EULA is really this simple. You may use the font software as described above on the permitted number of computers and may output such font software on any output device connected to such computers. Well, as you may have noticed, desktop publishing really took off. And as the design and publishing world expanded into new technologies and media, font licenses had to change. From those first simple print licenses came changes for commercial use, which distinguished between the intended purpose of the work employing fonts. Server distribution through better larger networks which tie teams and companies together. Video, which eventually adopted computer-based production. PDF embedding where documents took digital form and became portable and needed to have font data in them to be rendered elsewhere. Server applications, which used fonts to produce work remotely and can be accessed by unlimited numbers of users. And then flash embedding, ebook embedding, web fonts serving, mobile app embedding, and lots of other stuff. We recently heard from one customer who was pretty annoyed with the perceived complexity of our license terms. He wrote, and I'll just paraphrase, I don't want to deal with this big corporate-y license agreement. I just want to buy the font. This guy knows what he wants. He wants simplicity. And whether he realized it or not, he identified the simplest possible solution. He wants to just buy a font. Up until now, I haven't used the word buy because it's not quite accurate. It connotes ownership. And as we know, the owner of a font is the one licensing it out to other people. Strictly speaking, people buy a license. They don't buy a font. Can you buy a font? Sure you can. Everything has its price. And if you want to do whatever you want and not be bothered by licensing terms and restrictions, it's the ultimate solution. The problem is that kind of simplicity comes with a very big price tag. The previous owner is not only going to want you to pay them for all the time they put into creating it, if they did, but they'll want to be compensated for all the revenue they will not get from not being able to license it anymore. Let's just look at a basic example. Let's say I design a typeface. It has a regular and a bold and an italic and a bold italic. Say this takes me a year of work. So my time for all that skilled labor to create this beautifully crafted typeface family is worth $100,000. That's a year of my time. It's nice enough that I could make some pretty good money from selling licenses for it. And not just for a year or two. Let's say I add up to 10 years worth of revenue from that, which really sounds pretty minimal for licensing fees, really. And let's say I get another $300,000 for all that. 10 years worth of licensing. So if someone wants to buy it, I tell them, okay, that'll cost you $400,000. A price like this will probably cause the average type consumer's ears to bleed. And this is exactly why we have licensing agreements because just about everyone is going to come back to that with, well, maybe we can work out a lower price so I can just do what I really need to do and not pay for stuff I don't actually need. I don't actually need to own this thing. Licensing isn't just a strategy designers and foundries use to make things complicated or make money. It's used because the alternative isn't really that attractive to the average consumer. Of course, fonts are sold. Some customers, usually large companies, really do want the simplicity that comes with ownership. They want the ability to do anything whenever, wherever. Some type designers make a tremendous living making original custom typefaces for clients who are willing to pay for them. That's often for corporate identity, but we've also seen companies pay designers to create a typeface which they then bundle with a product or even make available for free. But you've heard me describe this laundry list of possible licensing terms and media and is exactly why type licensing resists this simplification. Generally, people don't want to pay for more than they need and for the average foundry, balancing licensing complexity with price in order to give customers what they want is the heart of their business. Now there's the eula itself. It's full of all the specific terms and allowances and restrictions that you are actually going to agree to as a customer. Maybe one of the most basic but easily forgotten truths about the eula is that it's a legally binding agreement. It's often written like one for better or worse. The license agreement has some kind of term, meaning its duration, how long it lasts. The most common eula is perpetual, meaning that once you've paid for it, it never expires. And this might be evident in the eula by the lack of any limitation, such as the case with this one here. And perpetual sounds extravagant, but it's what a lot of people still expect when they buy software. These days, we also have subscription licenses that remain valid for as long as you maintain some recurring fee. And for some customers, often companies or enterprises, they'll purchase a license for just a few years or some other kind of limited term. Something we occasionally get questions about is updates and upgrades. And you might find that when you accept either of those, you essentially are replacing a font and its eula with a new one. In other words, not only does your license to use the previous version of the font terminate, but it could be replaced with a new license with new terms. You'll probably find some expression of quantity, and this can be tricky. By and large, I think font eulas have historically specified some number of allowable computer installations or seats, as they're sometimes called. These are certainly single seat licenses, which might allow installation on a so-called backup computer too, as long as the font isn't getting used simultaneously. A five-seat license is pretty common, and that means that the font software can only be installed and used on up to five computers, which are usually in the same physical office or in the same company. Often, a license sale will come down to putting a price on some quantity of license seats for some customer. If a design agency has 20 people, they'll buy a 20-seat license or four five-seat licenses. Still, that quantity could be a number of users rather than computers. It could even be a specific list of people. And often, there are site licenses, although pricing, such as a site license, usually requires some notion of quantity. A site license for a company with 100 employees should cost less than a site license for a company with 5,000 employees. Often, a site license purchases a company's way of saying that they don't really want to worry about who in the company is using the fonts or where in the company the fonts are going or being used. There might be a general or specific reference to distribution, especially for media like the web or mobile apps. You might be restricted to some number of websites or a specific list of web domains. You might be limited to embedding the font in a single mobile app or just one version of that app. You might, or maybe there'll be no limit at all. You'll notice that farther away from a licensing model you get from a traditional print license, the more variety you'll see. Mobile licenses are like that today. One of the most difficult licensing components for a type customer is personal versus commercial use. Not everybody makes such a distinction in their ULA, but many foundries see this as a way to price their fonts more appropriately to get a share of revenue when the font is used to create revenue. I find this tricky to do today since the complexities of, say, web distribution often make the line between personal and commercial use fuzzy. If the font is used for something that isn't commercial, but indirectly supports something commercial, what then? If a foundry has done a good job of writing their ULA, this distinction will hopefully be clear. You might find both general and specific terms in there. I point this out because it's very common for type customers to complain that the ULA doesn't explicitly allow something. Often a license will employ some general term in order to stay relevant as time passes and new technology and media appear. For example, why grant explicit permission to embed font data in a PDF when some other portable document format could come along that is functionally equivalent? You'd have to revise your ULA to allow embedding in that, too. And then maybe there was something else you didn't know about, but a customer is going to call you up and ask you about that after they've bought the license. It's better, maybe, for a foundry to describe the kind of documents they have in mind in general terms rather than trying to name every possible thing. In fact, it's worth spending a few minutes talking about font embedding in digital documents, which Adobe often refers to as electronic documents, because it's one of the most significant use cases for type users. The quintessential digital document is PDF. But for the term, at least my definition of it refers to any kind of self-contained document that is exported or published in digital form rather than in physical form and is intended for reading, viewing, or printing. These documents often carry some form of font data so that text can be rendered anywhere for any viewer just as the author intended. PDF is the poster child for this because it accommodates two things that foundries like if they don't require it for embedding fonts. Subsetting and obfuscation. Subsetting means that instead of embedding the entire font, only the minimum necessary font data is embedded, which means that if the font is extracted from the document, it won't be very useful to anyone else. If you create a PDF with a single word, the embedded font will only have a subset of the letters required to render that word. Obfuscation means that embedded fonts cannot be easily discovered or extracted or used outside the document. Subsetting is a kind of obfuscation, but it can also mean the font data is hidden or encoded, encrypted or otherwise hard to discover or use. Perhaps the entire contents of the digital document are encrypted, although the EPUB format accommodates this. It's called font mangling. Proprietary ebook formats like for Amazon or Apple can be even more secure. We in the type industry are told all the time from smarty pants people that font obfuscation is pointless because everyone knows the tools and other hacks exist to extract font data. The wisdom often comes in the form of complaints from software engineers who don't like the technical overhead required to handle obfuscated font data. Why spend time writing code that will slow down performance for something that totally doesn't protect the font anyway? The answer is that it's not so much about technical prevention. It's known as the garden fence. And the analogy is that at your home you put up a fence to keep people out. Everyone knows that a person can just hop the fence, so as a physical barrier it's really not that effective. But a garden fence is very effective in communicating to passersby that the stuff on the other side of the fence is private. And it's even a reminder to more insubordinate types that there might be legal consequences. Without that fence you will find people inadvertently wandering onto your property and there's not much you can say to them because they'll just tell you, oh, sorry, I didn't know that. But if the fence is there a person has to climb over it and pleading ignorance gets a lot harder. So font obfuscation is that garden fence. It tells anyone poking around that they are in a private area and it requires some deliberate action to get around it. If for some reason you ever have to confront that person or make an argument in court, that obfuscation becomes valuable evidence of intentional mischief. And the garden fence isn't just for digital documents. It's necessary whenever a font travels somewhere such as in a web font container like WAF or in a subscription service that syncs fonts to users' computers. We think that most people are basically good and we also know that the average person handles computers and devices with a ton of documents, applications, folders and files and often they have no idea what they are or where it all came from. So we require a publisher to obfuscate any font they're embedding. We're not really addressing software pirates where rather the average consumer who might just run across the font and think, oh, that's cool, look, a font. There's another licensing option I didn't mention before. That's modification. Permission to modify a font is wrapped up in the idea of a corporate typeface, among other things, and it's not really such an uncommon request. Modification and ownership have this somewhat tortured relationship, though. Rather than paying for the outright creation of a custom typeface, a company can purchase a license to modify or customize an existing typeface for their own use. The company ends up with a unique version of the typeface but still doesn't own it. They've only purchased a license to use their customized version within the company in their marketing or publishing or whatever. Just to illustrate that idea, here are a couple of my favorite examples of that. In the 1980s, Apple, quite famously, made its own modified version of a typeface called ITC Garamond. No doubt, many people unaware of the origin of Apple's corporate typeface assumed this was something Apple owned, maybe even something they had designed entirely for themselves. But while certainly nobody but Apple could use Apple's own modified version of ITC Garamond, which is, in simple terms, just a compressed version of ITC Garamond, the original typeface still belonged to ITC and other people have continued to license the original ITC Garamond for themselves. And then almost as memorable is Apple's use of Myriad. That's a typeface designed at and owned by Adobe. It was actually Adobe's own corporate typeface for quite some time. Once again, Apple made some minor modifications to Myriad and used it so much that most people might have assumed it was owned by Apple. But it was and remains owned and licensed by Adobe. In both cases, you can assume Apple paid for a license to modify it and use these typefaces as they did. But whereas a company like Apple probably thought through the licensing implications and all of that, lots of font users don't. It's still relatively rare for modifications to be allowed by a standard EULA. So right away, any customer that assumes otherwise is risking some infringement. But less obviously, those who modify fonts for their own use often lose sight of the original license because of this sense of ownership that comes with modifications. Think of it this way. You join a company and are given the corporate fonts to use. Make sure you always use our fonts, you're told. Before long, as employees come and go, all anyone really knows about those corporate fonts is that they are our fonts. Let's assume the company originally purchased a desktop license and had the right to modify it. They would have ensured that they purchased enough license seats for everyone in the company to use those fonts as needed. But say six years later, someone is creating a company website and why not use the corporate fonts on the web? There are fonts. It's not so much that the factory wouldn't allow that, but that the company never paid for a web license and they certainly should. Okay, let's talk about free fonts and it's hard for me to not put scare quotes around that. When people talk about free fonts, you never know what they really mean. I think for the average person, free really means I was able to download it from the web from a place that wasn't an obvious criminal enterprise. First, there are the best kind of free fonts. Those are open source fonts. I say they're the best kind because they are, for the most part, freely and legitimately licensed and despite the controversy in the industry about how open source fonts affect the perceived value of fonts or the average quality of fonts in use around the world, they serve many useful purposes. Google has popularized them to further their ubiquity as web fonts, but has also taken care to ensure the fonts they offer have a proper open source license. And as always, it's questionable how many users of open source fonts are even aware that such fonts actually have a license with terms they must respect when they use them. After everything I've already said, you might be wondering why anyone ever releases a font under an open source license. Well, there are designers out there and some of them can be pretty good designers who either don't want or don't need the money and prefer to make a gift of their creations. In fact, it's one way to get typeface into a lot of hands. As some designers, some designers really are in it for the money, but feel like the exposure they get from releasing a font or a family as open source is worthwhile. Don't forget, though, the advantage of open source isn't just that it's free. It's that the license itself is very permissive. They solve a real problem beyond cost. Here's the core of the popular open font license. For those who want simplicity in the form of negligible restrictions and negligible legal risk, open source fonts are the way to go. Look at what you have here. Oops, let's do that. Permission to use, study, copy, merge, embed, modify, redistribute, and sell modified and unmodified copies of the font software. That sounds pretty good. There are still some important rules to follow, particularly with regard to how fonts are redistributed, especially when they're modified, which is obviously why everyone still needs to read the license, even when it's free, even when it's a free open source font. But because of this simplicity, some very big companies have funded development of high quality open source typeface families in order to ensure a reliable typographic experience in their platforms or their applications without all these usual licensing complications which come with something that isn't released that way. Okay, but poke around the web for a few more minutes and you'll find many purveyors of so-called free fonts. The most significant difference between them in something like Google Fonts is a lack of due diligence. In other words, while Google, for example, does a good job of maturing that the fonts they distribute all have legitimate open source licenses, the bad actors of the free fonts world do none of that. Often there's no eula at all and that's a big red flag. In fact, I'll just say that you should not get anywhere near a font that does not come with a licensing agreement. It might be an illegitimate copy or a poorly made knockoff and there's a good chance its technical quality is lacking and to top it off by downloading and using a font without a eula, you really have nothing to prove it came from a legitimate source. For a long time people have gotten some pretty nice fonts along with their computer operating systems. Helvetica, Times New Roman, Gil Sands, Verdana, Georgia, even Arial has its merits. It's got a ubiquity and it's got a huge character set. But look at these fonts that come with macOS Sierra. I built this awesome build and I don't have much to say about it, but check out all these fonts that you get with the latest version of macOS. It's a nice long break. Okay, it's a little known fact I keep saying that the fonts which come with installed with an operating system are covered by a licensing agreement. Likely as part of the license which covers the OS itself. And actually it didn't take me more than a minute or so to find that part of the macOS Sierra license online. First there's this introductory section. Fonts are licensed for use only under the terms of the license. All right. And then there's this font specific section below. It's interesting that this license is pretty minimal given what I think a lot of people assume they're allowed to do with them. You may use the fonts included with the Apple software to display and print content. There's a thing there about embedding fonts and once again I'll just caution you this is part of a larger license and one thing you learn from reading a lot of licenses is there's often very significant stuff tucked in the corners of them. So I'm making a general point here. Don't take my word for about what the Apple license allows. And there's a mysterious fourth kind of free font worth mentioning and it's all the fonts in your font menu. Now a lot of those are probably the system fonts I just mentioned but the underlying problem I'm talking about are the fonts people have but they just have no idea where they came from. It's hard to blame the user when software installers just write fonts onto a computer without any particular notification. You want to know what license agreement comes with those and if you don't know where they came from it's hard to know where to find the license agreement. And sometimes you just have fonts on there that you got from other people. It's dangerous to use fonts that you find on your font menu without knowing what their license really is. You might be surprised to hear that many, probably most, possibly all, foundries know very well that nearly all their customers don't read the EULA. They certainly wish they did but they know they don't. So who or what is this EULA really for? The conventional wisdom is that it's for the customer. Like I've said, it's a binding legal agreement between the foundry and the user. And the idealist in me likes the idea that a customer, the licensee, will understand that all the rules for their use of the font are in there. So you could say the foundry writes their EULA for their customers, requires them to read it, hopes they do and then just kind of goes from there. That's not wrong but it also sounds a little like wishful thinking. In the real world, customers rely mostly on the expectations they bring in with them and then more digestible information found in marketing and help guides and FAQs. Any foundry that doesn't publish such documentation is probably going to quickly get lots of customer questions about their licensing terms. And when they do, it doesn't really cut it to reply, just read the EULA. I mean, we try that, but very soon the utility of a friendly FAQ to take the place of all those support calls and emails starts to look pretty attractive. The only risk is that you're creating kind of parallel license which conveys only some of the EULA using different words while at the same time discouraging people from reading the actual EULA. At the end of the spectrum, some say that a font EULA is really just for lawyers and judges that it's written like it has to serve the court, not the customer. And that brings us back to Font Bureau versus NBC. NBC Universal was actually hit with two high-profile infringement claims. First, a $2 million lawsuit from the Font Bureau in 2009. And then a $3.5 million lawsuit from House Industries in 2013. In both cases, the Foundries observed what they suspected was NBC using unlicensed fonts. And I'm told Font Bureau contacted NBC many times and were just ignored. When the friendly approach doesn't work, what's a Foundry to do? Certainly it costs money to go up against a company with lawyers in deep pockets, but when it gets to that point, there just aren't too many options left. Everyone seems to agree that these Foundries did the whole type industry an incredible favor with these two lawsuits which were subsequently settled. Not only did they call out a huge entertainment conglomerate about their sloppy font licensing, after all, NBC got caught, they settled, and then got caught again four years later. But I've heard the Foundries everywhere started getting calls from companies who were scared to death and wanted to clear up all their font licensing before they got sued for millions of dollars. I know Adobe did. Joyce Ketterer from Darden Studio makes a compelling argument that the EULA is essentially a sales tool. When a Foundry finds license violations in the wild or even when a customer comes voluntarily to them to confess it, the authority of that license agreement, sometimes something the customer has already agreed to, creates a compelling opportunity to sell additional licensing rights that they might need. In other words, when a Foundry accepts the fact that their EULA isn't really serving the customer directly, it just becomes a lever to apply opportunistically. And although that doesn't really always work either, that sales tool approach reflects the good faith Foundries generally bring to the table when confronting licensing problems and infringement. That is, Foundry simply say, Hi there, it looks like you might have infringed. You might need to pay for additional licensing. Can we help you figure that out? Because let's face it, type licensing is really hard and it doesn't hurt to acknowledge that most infringing font users are simply unaware of those shortcomings. While we in the type industry struggle to make type licensing easier, it's also easy to see that there is widespread ignorance about the value of type. That many think of fonts as free software and many make a lot of assumptions about what they're allowed to do with it. In the end, licensing is about business engagement. Foundries engaging with their customers. Customers need to buy something. Foundries want to sell it. What I know from experience is that Foundries want to help customers understand the license that they are going to pay for. Sure they need to put a price on it and sell it to you because that's how a sustainable business works. But the more you know about type and how licensing works, the more comfortable you'll be with it. And I really hope you are. Thank you.