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A few hours into the first day of high school and I had already embarrassed myself. 
Which was kind of a surprise because I was one of the most “normal” kids out of the entire 287-person school.
You see, my parents had decided—given my tendency to be a chronic overachiever and perfectionist—that they would not be sending me to the high school I wanted to go to, where students could enroll in IB/AP classes and excel academically while surrounded by like-minded brains that enjoyed learning… 
Oh no, no, no. 
They were sending me to the weirdo school where kids with pink and purple hair sat on the front lawn smoking cigs, slacklining, and hand dancing to EDM—none of which were exactly my personal passions. 
The school didn't have a single sport, unless you count ultimate frisbee played by lazy stoners, and the mascot was a narwhal. 
(Although, it changed three times in the four years I was there.)
And every few months, students would present their projects for fun or extra credit, which almost always included a cherished New Vista performance done by that quarter's marimbas class that almost always resulted in half of the student body forming a mosh pit. 
(You know, marimbas, the instrument that's like a tall, wooden xylophone?)
ANYWHO, point is… it was a weird as hell high school and I was deeply unhappy to be there. 
(Although spoilers, I would grow to love it and have to later, and extremely resentfully, admit that my parents had totally made the right call. The weirdo school was where I belonged. Not only did I meet some incredible teachers, but I also got to write books for English credit which was pretty f*cking sick.)
That first day of high school, though? It's gotta take the cake for worst day ever of high school and all because of one tuna fish sandwich. 
You see, First name / friend, that morning I had gotten ready. Taken my hair out of the braids I had slept in overnight so I'd have some cute little waves. Put on the outfit I had already laid out the night before. Packed my backpack, and slipped my tuna fish sandwich in—without a single concern over whether the container was upright or sealed…
Which meant that by the 3rd class of the day…that mayo-y, mustardy, fishy juice concoction had begun leaking all over everything inside of my backpack. 
I was in Hunter's math class—we called all of our teachers by their first names— when someone asked…
“What's that smell?” 
And as I pulled out a soggy notebook, reeking of my tuna fish sandwich, my stomach sank.
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Not only had I managed to embarrass myself, but now I also had no lunch. And yeah, I wasn't trying to impress anyone at a school full of "weirdos," but I also wasn't trying to be known as “tuna girl” for the next four years of high school. 
I looked at my backpack, imagining all of the school supplies that were not coated in a nice fishy, watery slime. Glanced at Gaeryth, the guy who had outed me to our math class, and did what I do best: made fun of myself before anyone could beat me to the punch. 
(My sense of self-deprecating humor has managed to get me very far in life.)
Class resumed. I scrounged up some cash for a substitute lunch. Life went on. And, luckily for me, people managed to forget The Great Tuna Incident of 2013. 
(Although my backpack never recovered, despite three washes and some furious hand scrubbing.)
The point is, you can recover from baddddd first impressions. 
And I know that as a website copywriter (or just a general marketing freak), I should be telling you that your brand and website have under 8 seconds to grab someone's attention and make a good first impression. 
Which is true. 
But I also think that that telling you that and acting like that's your only shot to make an impression, isn't totally true. I mean, when I launched my first website, it sucked. 
And people liked me enough to stick around and give me a chance to make a second impression. 
So while it's true that your first impression is stupidly powerful, and absolutely has the potential to turn some people on or off forever, you and your business will also have multiple chances to make an impression with people who stick around long enough. 
Maybe not a first impression, but a follow-up impression. 
The problem is, changing that first impression, takes a whole lot of time. Especially, if you don't change the way you're presenting yourself online. 
(That would be like if I kept spilling tuna fish sandwiches in my backpack. Then I would have definitely been known as THAT tuna fish girl.)
So, when you're thinking about investing in services that shape the impression your business leaves on other people (like branding, website design, and um, website copy, of course, just to name a few), don't do it because it's your only shot at glory. 
Do it because you want to knock the socks off your potential dream clients the first time around, rather than starting in the negative and having to work your way out. 
Because yeah, you can come back from a bad first impression, but do you really want your first impression to be the equivalent of a spilled tuna fish sandwich?
I'm willing to bet no. 


And that's it!
With lots of love (and a little bit of tuna ),
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