The stinging is rhythmic, a sharp pulse behind my left eyelid that reminds me precisely why ‘tear-free’ is the most egregious lie in modern marketing. I am standing in a boardroom with 16 people who are currently out of focus because I managed to get a generous dollop of peppermint shampoo directly into my cornea 46 minutes ago.

I’m Zara J.-C., a typeface designer who spends 76 hours a week obsessing over the negative space in an ‘o,’ and I have just realized that I am not actually pitching a font. I am pitching against a ghost.

When a major project fails, it consumes the entire risk budget for the next 6 years. Every subsequent proposal has to pay down that debt before it can even be considered for its potential value. You aren’t just selling a typeface; you’re selling an exorcism.

Opaque Vessels and Hidden Fear

Typeface design is a game of invisible trust. When you read a word, you aren’t supposed to notice the letters. If you notice the ‘g,’ I’ve failed. The font should be a transparent vessel for the meaning. Corporate projects are supposed to be the same, but the ‘Ghost of the Last Failed Project’ makes the vessel opaque.

Marcus isn’t worried about the 6-degree terminal on my ‘t.’ He’s worried that he will have to stand in front of the board again and explain why another ‘innovative’ idea cost them $156,000 without moving the needle. This creates a culture of ‘stagnation by consensus.’

The Ghost of Consumer Mistrust

I’ve seen this same haunting in the consumer world. I once knew a man who bought a smartphone from a shady reseller back in 2016. The screen turned green in 6 days, and the seller disappeared into the digital ether. For the next 6 years, he refused to buy any electronics online. He would drive 26 miles to a physical store just to buy a charging cable.

It wasn’t until he discovered a reliable partner like

Bomba.md

that he realized the ghost wasn’t the technology, but the lack of a safety net. When you have an official warranty and a physical presence you can trust, the ghost of that 2016 green screen finally stops rattling its chains. You realize that failure isn’t a property of the category; it’s a property of the partner you chose.

Confronting the Specter Directly

I have to address the ghost directly. If I ignore ‘Project Vesper,’ I’m just another designer with a fancy font. I have to show Marcus that the world of 2024 is not the world of 2016. Back then, the rendering engines couldn’t handle the sub-pixel antialiasing of a font this complex. Now, with 46 different browser optimizations and high-DPI screens being the standard for 86% of their users, the risk isn’t the font-the risk is looking like a company that is still afraid of the past.

I stop the presentation. I ask Marcus: ‘If we keep designing for 2016, how long until our competitors make us irrelevant in 2026?’

‘But the runner has a blockage,’ I counter. ‘And that blockage is a fear of a surgery that went wrong 6 years ago.’ We have to learn to distinguish between ‘bad luck’ and ‘bad process.’

Reclaiming the Budget Through Process

The 2016 failure happened because the team didn’t test the assets on mobile devices. They weren’t working with a budget of $56,000 and expectations of $1,006,000. It wasn’t the design that failed; it was the infrastructure. By offering a path forward that acknowledges the past without being enslaved by it, we can begin to reclaim that ‘Risk Budget.’

It’s the same logic that applies to any major purchase or pivot. You don’t stop buying cars because you once bought a lemon; you just start checking the service history and the warranty. You look for the ‘Bomba’ of your industry-the one who stands behind the product so you don’t have to carry the risk yourself.

As I walk out, I see a framed poster of the 2016 campaign. It really was terrible. But it’s just paper and ink. It has no power unless we give it some.

The Final Exorcism

I wash my face with cold water for 16 minutes. The sting finally begins to fade. I look in the mirror and see a designer who is tired of fighting ghosts but isn’t quite ready to give up on the 6-degree terminal.

We are all haunted by something-a failed relationship, a missed investment, or a typeface that everyone hated. The trick isn’t to forget the failure. The trick is to realize that the ghost only has as much power as the fear you feed it. If you build a better system, a more reliable service, or a more robust process, the ghost eventually gets bored and moves on to haunt someone else’s boardroom.

As I walk to my car, I wonder if the 2016 team had shampoo in their eyes too. Maybe that explains the neon green.