Some Truths Revealed about Nametags

The other day I took a break from sewing on the quilt we are making here at Energize from old conference tote bags and cleaned out my bottom desk drawer. When I tugged it open, hundreds of conference name badges sprung out at me like some crazy jack-in-the-box. In a flash, I realized that here was an unaddressed hot topic! It’s time to be honest and open about these devilish plastic items:

• Nametags range in quality from those peel-off, stick-em-on, “Hello, my name is” cuties (which do not stick longer than ten minutes to any fabric out of which clothes are made) to those lightweight plastic jobs from which the paper insert flies to the floor, leaving an empty, useless shell flopping open on the wearer’s chest. And is there no happy medium between flimsy safety pin backs that fall apart and those dragon-teethed clip fasteners that bite into your clothing so that even hurricane-force winds can’t rip the nametag off?

• A delicate issue is placement. Attach it too high and it irritates our necks, but pin it too low and it elicits improper stares--a problem increasing in severity with the size of the wearer’s bustline. Further, there’s the raging debate over which is the politically-correct side for placement of the tag: left or right?

• To be sure, pins and clips are often by-passed today in favor of the neck string or lanyard. Of course, these are made somewhere by retired NBA players, the only explanation I can come up with for their length. Maybe the only thing more annoying than the nametag chest stare is the contortions a stranger must make to read a nametag at bellybutton level.

• Now let’s be honest about what appears on the nametags. Perhaps conference organizers purposely print names tiny enough to foster intimacy between conferees peering closely at each other’s tags. Some nametags are so filled with colored dots, stars, workshop codes, regional designations, and stickers for next year’s conference city that the name of the person is totally obscured, making it necessary to go through introductions anyway.

• Then there's the matter of attachments. Ribbons to honor board members, presenters, exhibitors, recovering alcoholics, and other dignitaries bedeck chests everywhere in an attempt to impersonate 5-star generals. Some events go wild with those little sticky felt things in shapes like cactus or pineapples that crazed regional reps. slap on you as they run through the exhibit hall. Of course, it seems perfectly natural to wear this adorned name tag at the event, but when a waitress in the restaurant across town miraculously calls you by your first name and you realized you’ve worn the thing outside, you feel pretty silly.

Now don’t get me wrong--I love nametags. In fact, I have practiced a long time to perfect the technique of pretending to be focused on someone’s face while I stretch my peripheral vision to glance at the name on my colleague’s tag. “Why you look mah-vel-ous, Mary...uh Maryanne...uh Marianna! How nice to see you again!” It’s a little secret we conference presenters share.

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Remember the famous Ms. Magazine cover in its inaugural year that showed a Lichtenstein-like cartoon image of a man and a woman? The man was saying: “Do you know the women’s movement doesn’t have a sense of humor?” And the woman replies: “No, but if you hum a few bars, I’ll fake it.” Well, happy April 1! Volunteer management needs to lighten up occasionally and humor was one of my resolutions (see January’s hot topic)!

In response this month, can you add to the smiles? Any pet peeves (or true anecdotes) you’d like to share about those weddings-cum-recognition-banquets we plan annually? Or maybe you can tickle our funny bones on the trials and tribulations of creating a weekly volunteer schedule, dealing with unusual staff or volunteer personalities, or any other easily-recognizable, day-in-the-life story of a volunteer program manager. We can all use the break! :-)