The Smallprint
Contracts always have special clauses that confuse you. Even… special contracts…
The image, “Smallprint on Crackdown box” by cosmic_spanner, was licensed through the CC BY-SA 2.0.
This text was presented at the Poetry Slam in Hamm in December 2013. Here is the recording, you can find an English translation below::
Blue smoke rose from the small bottle and formed the shape of a man dressed in oriental clothing, who crossed his arms in front of his chest and eyed the person who had just been rubbing the container.
“Oh, Efendim, I thank you for freeing me from the bottle and I grant you three wishes!” he recited a little mechanically and with some boredom.
The “Efendim” adjusted his glasses and tilted his head.
“What do you mean, three wishes?” he asked.
“Well, just three wishes!”
“Anything at all?”
“Anything at all!”
“Alright. Then I wish for you to create a stone so heavy that you cannot carry it.”
The genie stared at him expressionlessly. “Very funny! Efendim must have read a book on logic. No, of course that’s not possible!”
“So,” declared the one who rubbed the bottle, “it’s not true then that I can wish for absolutely anything.”
The genie sighed deeply and for a long time. “Every 500 years I run into a smarta— I mean, you’re right, exalted Efendim. Wishes must be free of self-contradiction. In other words, no wish can be granted that contradicts itself by being fulfilled!”
The rubber nodded. “What about wishing that I could wish for infinite wishes?”
“Union rules forbid it.”
“Shame. That would’ve been my first wish.”
The genie smiled a little. “Well, nothing to be done.”
“While we’re at it, how about warranty and liability?”
“What… warranty?”
“Well… according to current legislation, this is technically a door-to-door transaction. What if I’m not satisfied with a wish? Do I have the right to return it? Or is there an exchange policy? What about liability in the case of wishes that seem fine at first but fail to meet expectations after two years? And can I cancel the deal within a fourteen-day cooling-off period?”
The genie stood there with his mouth open. “Don’t tell. Let me guess. You’re a lawyer, Efendim.”
“How did you know?”
“Just a hunch. But no, there’s no warranty for wishes.”
“What if I wish for one?”
The genie thought for a moment. “Alright, fine, that you can do.”
“Good. I wish for a warranty on the two remaining wishes. If one of them is poorly executed, I may return it and make a new one.”
The genie snapped his fingers. “Done. And now, your two other wishes?”
“Wait a second,” said the rubber, “there’s something I didn’t consider. It could be that a wish is fulfilled to my satisfaction, but there are side effects — like sparks, fire, or other interactions.”
The genie sighed and sat down on a nearby bench.
“So,” said the Efendim, unfazed, “I wish for an insurance policy on the third and final wish, that will also cover any consequential damages.”
With a snap of his fingers, this was granted as well.
The genie paused for a moment and then said, “Efendim — have you considered what happens if you pass away? Perhaps your family should benefit from the wish too!”
“Oh damn,” he cried, “I wish I had thought of that!”
“So be it!” cried the genie, snapped his fingers, and vanished back into the bottle. “Lawyers…” the genie muttered, making a mental note to write out detailed terms and conditions.
