Breaking Up with Adobe
Dear Adobe Creative Cloud,
You gave me nine years of Photoshop. I gave you four thousand dollars. You might think we’re breaking up because of the expense, but I think we both know that our relationship has been unhealthy for a while now. I hate to be cruel, but you’ve grown bloated and greedy over the years. You suck up memory and demand acres and acres of free hard drive space, well beyond the vast gigabites I’ve already provided for your code. And when I didn’t keep my door wide-open to your telemetry, you snuck in and held my projects hostage until I let you “verify my integrity.” Your fees were high, and for a long time I told myself that you charged so much because you were the best.
But let’s be real. We’ve been together for so long because I didn’t know where else to go. I mean, GIMP offered to let me move in, a bunch of times. He means well, but that guy does not have his shit together. You might be an overbearing asshole, Adobe Creative Cloud, but at least you know how to color-manage CMYK conversions for paperback wrap book covers. GIMP tries, but he can’t quite scratch my itches like you do. So every year when it came time for you and I to renew our vows, I’d sit with my finger over the cancel button feeling like a hostage in a doomed relationship.
Every year, you’d say to me. “Oh. You want to leave, do you? What about your fonts? And your presets? Don’t even think you can take them with you. If you go, YOU WILL REGRET IT. Think about everything I do for you, baby! Remember the time you uploaded Condor Wide? You loved Condor Wide. And I’m the one who let you use it. Until a few months later when I auto-expired the license and made you hunt for it again. But STILL.”
Two years ago, I found the courage to press the cancel button! You offered me two months free, and I took it like a chump. And I’ve grudgingly continued, saddling myself with an annual payment totaling more than TWICE what I used to pay for the permanent, full-freight software.
Slowly, I grew to resent you, Adobe Creative Cloud. You added so many features, trying to make me love you, but I just wanted to be able to open four images at once without crashing my machine or listening to your shrill exhortations about “scratch disks.” You are SO annoying.
Enough talking. I’ve spent the last three days taking my files out of your folders, rasterizing old text layers, uninstalling apps and checking cross-compatibility with my new software. I’ve made lists of the fonts I need. Today, I’m buying font licenses, one by one, preparing myself to take the final step.
Hitting the cancel button, and meaning it this time.