So I’m at this thing the other day, you know, one of those events where you walk in the door and they check you in and give you a name tag to clip on your person, along with a wine glass, and you feel awkward at first because you arrived alone so the first thing you do is scrape the room for a familiar face so you can immediately cling to him or her while you get your insecure bearings in order? Yeah, one of those.
Anyway, as I’m bouncing from one familiar face to another, tasting wine and bacon-wrapped shrimps on sticks, there are people here who feel important because they were on a guest list and the place which grandly opens the next day is closed to the public.
Now, this other thing that’s about to happen happens all the time and I’ve never thought twice about it, but this time it is obvious and I do indeed think twice about it.
I’m walking through the crowd and I see a guy turn toward me and look at my boob. Well, actually, he’s looking at my name tag, I think. He could have been looking at my boob, I suppose, but usually if someone looks at your boob, they look at both of your boobs, so their eyes are more centered between them and since my name tag was conspicuously dangling off of the edge of my right boob like a “Hello My Name Is” pasty and his eyes were definitely on THAT boob, I assume he’s looking at my name tag.
Anyway, not the point — the point is, he was looking at my name tag. Just long enough to read it and know that he doesn’t recognize it. He doesn’t even bother to look at my face. All he cares about is my name and whether I am an important person, which he has immediately decided I am not, because he clearly doesn’t recognize my name and he instantly dismisses me with a turn of his head back to his circle of people.
My first thought was, What a jerk! Because my name tag doesn’t say [insert famous name here], you won’t waste your time introducing yourself so you can “network” with me about whatever the hell it is you do? I’m not important enough to further your career? You can’t even dismiss me with a little direct eye contact? I’m not even worth a quick glance of possible recognition? You ass!
Am I over analyzing this? Should I spend any more time worrying about these weenies who brush me off so quickly and who would probably have been a waste of my precious time to talk to anyway, because this guy was clearly selfish and nothing more than a what-can-you-do-for-me kind of guy?
I’ll have you know that I’m an important person. You should want to get to know me. I am awesome. I have things to offer. I am a person you should totally want to meet, gosh darn it! I know people! I have influence! And if you’re just going to assume I am a nobody, you better think again, Mister. And go to hell, while you’re at it!
I don’t know. Maybe he was looking at my boob.
hello nanny goats in panties its dennis the vizsla dog hay bacon??? did i heer sumthing in their abowt bacon??? bacon??? can we heer more abowt the bacon??? mmmmm bacon!!! ok bye
Hello Dennis the Vizsla Dog! Boy are YOU a sight for sore eyes!
I prefer putting a man’s name on the tag instead. Like Dan or Bob. If you do this, you first get the strange look, like “Is she serious,” then people come up to you and say, “Are you serious?” which is an excellent way not to get ignored.
Hey Margaret! You’re not taking this seriously. If you were truly important, you’d storm over, demand his full attention and then browbeat him repeatedly, saying “Don’t you know who I AM?!” until his girlfriend came to rescue him and point out you have mayo on your boob. Indigo x
I have worked in places where I had to have a name tag, too, although it never bothered me if people looked at it. Reminds me of when one of my friends at college went to town shopping wearing a top with a logo on one side of her chest, and a man she’d never met before asked what “the other one” was called. Men eh?
Reminds me of every party I ever went to in L.A. where a name tag did you no good anyway because if you weren’t instantly recognizable (i.e. famous) the whole room ignored you.
I totally related to this column but first off, yes birdwatchers do have a sense of humor and more importantly, the birds have a sense of humor about the silly humans thumbing through their bird books who come to the conclusion that the common wren they are seeing has now been deemed an “incidental” from the South Pacific who just happened to be hanging out by I-5 in Sacramento…the birds actually find this hilarious.
About the name tag thing – OMG! That is the most annoying thing ever – the quick glance at the boob or name tag and even quicker dismissal of you as unworthy. It’s amazingly rude! However, I think we might be too sensitive – the person(s) are trying to “network” and find someone they might have something in common with to start a conversation – if only they knew the power of a blogger, they would totally spend time with you – their loss and their ignorance and their lack of basic courtesy. I would totally talk to you.
You must have one hell of a boob! Either that or he’s one hell of a boob.
I loathe name tags and always place them someplace obscure like my hip, where my shoulder bag conveniently hangs. That gives people the illusion that I’m way too famous for a name tag and if they don’t know who I am it is they — not I — who are the losers. 😉 Psychotic birds, huh. Sounds like a book for our friend, Murr Brewster.