Thursday, May 18, 2006

Business2Business

I have business cards! It’s all very exciting. Since I’ve been here I’ve really lamented not having business cards*. People give them out all over the place: ‘That was a great salsa class – here’s my card’; ‘I’m very drunk, and have no idea who you are, but here’s my business card’; ‘Isn’t the weather at the pool great today? Call me. My number’s on the card’.

Invariably I find them scattered around my flat, or under my chair at work. They fall out of pockets, or become mangled and irredeemably fluffy in the wash, or mired in the piles of small change that gather in the dark recesses of my handbag.

I’ve started sticking them in a school exercise book now, because they are piling up in useless drifts against other useless items on my desk (currently – two empty water bottles, one bottle of spunk liqueur, a pair of shorts, two hundred damp tissues & a packet of ryvita). However, until now I have had nothing with which to reciprocate.

In the UK I was hopeless at the business card game. I’d go to meetings, rarely, being that breed of trust fundraiser who lurks behind the phone, and spends most of the day with her head buried in the filing cabinet in case someone notices she’s not ‘networking’. Anyway, the meetings I did go to, I’d invariably forget my business cards, of which my charity had had about 1,000 printed up. This was wildly optimistic – I don’t know 1,000 trusts. The only way I could conceivably get rid of them was to staple them to applications, which seemed a bit pompous [Hey, look at me! I have business cards, and am therefore very important] and a waste of money. So they just gathered dust.

I couldn’t then believe it when they changed the design, and we all got new business cards – another 1,000 to dispense in a mere two months before my departure. Madness.

Anyway, I have a whole pile of 500 to get rid of now. My name is spelt correctly – a miracle! Praise be! They are nice and shiny, and look as if they’ve been laminated and chopped up by a small child with its first pair of training scissors. Professionalism counts for a lot in these parts.

As ever, for reasons as yet unfathomed, my boss is obsessed by capitalizing the surnames of everyone in all his correspondence, so I am Rachael JOHNSON, Fundraiser. I don’t know why I find this disconcerting. It’s as if my surname is shouting at me.

I can’t wait to start dispensing them in the bar later.

*This is creative storytelling at its most creative. I haven’t really.

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Comments:
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