Blank Contract: Fill & Download for Free

I took a freelance position to help a chiropractor in Manhattan promote his practice to physicians for the treatment of fibromyalgia— simple enough.2 weeks after I started and lined up clients for him, I received a contract from him in the mail. It was a boilerplate contract his attorney pulled off of the internet. As I dug through the dozen pages of fine print, there was a paragraph that said if I were to stop representing the chiropractor and I visited any medical professional for any reason for the next 5 years, I had to pay him $10,000 per occurrence.I called the assclown and screamed at him. He said he had no idea what I was talking about. Apparently he never read it or if he did, he didn’t understand it. He said his lawyer charged him $300. I told him I sold legal forms to lawyers for 15 years and this form cost about $5 to download from the internet. All the lawyer did was plug my name and the chiropractor’s name in without reading it himself, obviously,The chiropractor said, he wouldn’t hold me to it, and his employees all signed it without complaints. I said it’s a binding contract and I could owe him tens of thousands of dollars if I got sick and needed medical care.He called me a few times, but I no longer trusted him. I said forget it, and he needed my specialized selling skills to physicians more than I needed him. I told him to shove it.Edit: Thank you got the 400+ upvotes. I recall another time when I was in advertising and the agency owner ran to my desk in a panic and asked me to sign a 4 page blank contract. I laughed at him and refused. He threatened to fire me if I didn’t.I stopped work on the rush job for a major account and packed my things. He asked, “What are you doing?” I said, “You just threatened to fire me if I didn’t sign it, and I’m not signing it. I’m packing to leave.” He walked off in a huff, “ Get back to work, I’ll get someone else to sign.” And he did.Edit: Thank you for the one thousand upvotes and for the great replies.

I had been buying yellow pages advertising on an annual basis for decades when the district sales manager came to re-up me for another contractual year in the new phone book. He brought with him a new saleslady-trainee, whom he apparently wanted to impress with his aggressive-salesman virility.I told the salesman and his trainee that after many years of advertising, I knew exactly what I needed and wanted, and my usual $750 per month ad would be sufficient, thank you very much. He insisted that he wanted to discuss demographics, response rates, and a bigger ad. I told him twice, kindly, that as much as I appreciated his desire to be helpful, I wanted nothing more than what I already had in the phone book.Then this aggressive salesperson made a fatal error: He said that if I was unwilling to discuss my advertising needs with him in greater detail, he “wasn’t sure whether (they) should be willing to sell (me) any more advertising in the future”.Big mistake. I had already exceeded my usual, somewhat limited level of patience, in consideration of his having the nice young trainee with him. But this was going to far.“Get out”, I said. “Excuse me?” the salesman said, not quite understanding or believing what I had said. “GET. OUT. NOW!” I roared at him. Still perplexed, he persisted: “But you haven’t signed any renewal contract yet…” I informed him, loudly, that there would never again be a renewal because of his threat to cut off my advertising. He then had the gall to tell me his home office would want to see a blank contract signed by me with the word, “Refused”. I agreed to do so, because it gave me the opportunity to write: “Refused - Because your salesman is the biggest ass I’ve ever met”.At least the young trainee learned a valuable lesson - how not to behave during a sales call.

I have two stories.My younger son has a form of autism. He has always been in a special needs program. One year, at his annual IEP (individual educational program) conference, his teachers were trying to get me to sign off on a blank program. They said they were so busy they didn’t have time to write up his program plan for the year. I asked them “would you go to a car dealership and sign off on a blank contract for a car, without knowing the cost, payments or even type of car you’re getting?” Well, no. If you’re uncomfortable with that, you can sign off on last year’s IEP (which they happen to have had a copy for me). I pulled out my own copy of last year’s IEP and said “do you mean to tell me that my son made zero progress, nothing at all in 12 months of school?” Oh no. We just didn’t have time to write up a plan. “That’s fine. We will reschedule our meeting for a week. That should give you plenty of time to write his IEP.” They insisted I was wrong. “I work in a special needs school just like you. I have typed IEPs for teachers. I created them, start to finish, in a few hours. That is taking teachers’ notes, related service notes, and typing them and goals and aims for the year. Trust me, if I can do it, you can do it. And if you refuse, I can go downtown and file a formal complaint that you refused to file your paperwork at the appropriate dates.” I was drop dead serious about this. One thing I learned was that this was a binding legal document and I was not going to sign a blank one or a fake one. Especially when it can be used against my son. I wasn’t asking them to do more than their jobs-especially when I was doing the same job in another school. It was ready in a week-and they admitted when they sat down to talk about my son, the old IEP was outdated as he had improved greatly. Score one for me.My daughter was in high school. She was 16 and it was a rough year. She took art and drawing and loved it. I supported her creativity, talent and passion by buying her a watercolor set and brushes for $125. She did some work at home and brought it in for her teacher. Her teacher told her this: “shame on you that you let your mother spend so much money on paints when you will never make it as an artist.” My daughter was devastated. She threw the art supplies out of her room as she told me what happened. I went to that teacher the next morning and gave her a dressing down. “How dare you rip apart any child’s spirit and passion? You, a teacher, trusted with children’s lives and well beings-how dare you rip down my daughter’s creativity and passion for art? My daughter took every book in my library about art and read it from cover to cover. She loved what she was doing! Who are you to tell her she won’t make it as an artist? It doesn’t have to hang in a museum! She has an excellent eye for colors-her series of flowers are hanging in my home, framed.” I meant that you shouldn’t have spent that much money. “It’s not your money and you have no right to judge. I didn’t care if she painted straight lines-she likes what she was doing. She was proud of it. I was proud of it.” I immediately marched to the assistant principal’s office to file a complaint. The assistant principal’s face dropped as she heard my side. My daughter was placed in another class. It took 13 years for my daughter to rediscover her love of drawing and colors as she took a costumes design class in college this past semester. “Mom, I forgot how much I loved to draw and paint.” “Whenever you are ready, your watercolors and brushes are here.” “Huh?” “The water color set from high school. It’s packed in the same box with your Care Bear collection.” “You saved it?” “Yes.” “Why?” “Because you have talent.” “you’re supposed to say that.” “Baby, when it’s from the heart, it’s talent. I crochet, I know.” “Mom, you rock.” By the way, my daughter got an A in that costume design class. Score two for me.