When I saw this font with stylized barbed cursive letters, it reminded me of the barbed security wire at the top of a fence and, immediately, it brought me back to my childhood. I grew up right next door to a sump: a big fenced-off basin designed to collect excess rainwater to prevent flooding. That might sound a little trashy, but it was amazing. Not only did it mean that we only had a neighbor on one side of us, but that sump became our own secret, below-grade hideout (+ sports field) for all sorts of healthy mischief, the kind of stuff that kids can't really get away with these days.

The barbed wire was there to keep us out, but it just made us want to get in even more.
Initially, we thought the only way in was to cover the wire with a blanket and climb, which wasn't easy.
Then, one day, my dad cAUght us. There was no mention whatsoever about trespassing. Instead, after telling us that our approach was kinda dangerous, he went and got a pair of wire cutters and a spool of lightweight wire. He snipped out a section of the fence (about 5' tall by 2' wide) and then reattached it with the wire at three spots on the left side (top, middle, bottom), as if they were hinges. He did the same on the right side, but made them easy enough for us to untwist and retwist to unlock/lock our new entry door.

That was my dad. Rules were more like suggestions with a little give in them, provided there was no victim.
And there was always a better solution to any problem.

Around that same time, Cablevision opened up a store in Huntington.
The ground floor was a showroom and sales desk, open to the public.
Upstairs was for employees only: a war room of delinquent balance collection soldiers.
The pay? X% of everything you recovered.

My dad saw an ad for night shift positions, figured it would be easy money, and took it on as a second job.
On his first night, they showed him how it's done.
Grab a stack of cards, each with a customer's name, account number, phone number, address and balance due.
Grab an open desk. Pick up the phone. Call. Follow the script: "Hi, this is Cablevision, our records show you owe a balance of seventy-five dollars and thirty-eight cents..."
He watched a guy do it. The result: Click. Almost every time, over and over.

After a handful of these failed attempts, he knew that strategy would be a waste of his time.
So, he followed the first step, kinda. He grabbed the entire stack of cards.
He flipped through them, grabbed a dozen or so that he knew were within a few-mile radius, and then put the rest back.
He knew the greater Huntington area like the back of his hand. Back then, you had to use a paper map so you learned roads and they stuck. You kept the knowledge in your head instead of relying on GPS.

Anyway, from there he went rogue, taking the cards out to his car, arranging them by street and starting his route. He'd park his car on the side of the road down the block from each address, walk to the telephone pole that connected Cablevision to his target, climb the pole and disconnect the cable.
Then climb back down, walk up to the front door and knock.

"Hi Mr. So-and-so, I'm Ed Yberg with Cablevision. I'm so sorry that we had to disconnect your cable due to your outstanding balance. Luckily, if you can write me a check right now for the entire balance, and let me use your phone, I can call the main office and have you back up and running in five minutes."

It worked almost every time.
So, I'm pretty sure that he earned more with that night job than he did with his 9-5.

Two different wires, same guy. One he cut so his kids could get in and connect to one another.
And the other one (which, incidentally, he might have been high on when he came up with the idea), he disconnected people to connect with them.

Added bonus: since he knew how to hook it up, our house never paid for cable again.