Yesterday Chris the Office Manager called me into her office. Her voice was kind of stern, so I figured I was finally getting busted for all my stupidity, but anyway, all she wanted to know was if I have business cards. Uh, no I do not. She told me to ask the publisher about that, reasoning that I'm doing a bit of writing and maybe I need them for The Public.
Strangely, The Public has never questioned my motives when I'm interviewing. Sometimes I wonder about that, how trusting everyone is, but I'm glad they are because wow, that would be humiliating, having to explain myself. Not that I'm ashamed to be a receptionist in a newspaper office. My job is awesome. It's just that The Public expects to talk to a real reporter is all, and even though my byline claims I'm a News Staff Writer... well, that's pushing it a bit.
So anyway, the publisher and I have a five second chat in which we determine that I really do not need business cards, which was a relief because while I am a poser, I try not to look like one. But Chris seemed a little disappointed for my sake when I told her the outcome, and handed me a stack of generic office cards for my own personal use. Kirby the Editor happened to be in the front office, so I did my patented model walk (which is exactly the opposite of how a model would walk, I'm guessing, not that I've seen a lot of models) and am all, hey Kirby, don't be jealous of my new business cards! He thinks I'm serious and demands to see them, and then is all, they're blank! You have a name! And I'm all, I'm going to write it in myself. WITH A PENCIL.
Well, I thought it was funny. I got a lot of pitying looks, so I'm not really sure what that means, but anyway, my fingers are crossed that The Public needs one of my new awesome cards soon.
Please come visit me and ask. Seriously. Help a girl out.
Jeez, people, be careful what you ask for. Not two hours after writing this (four? Five? Time is boring) this older guy came into the office and talked my ear off on all manner of subject--his antique car collection, motorcycles, target practice, his gun rights being severely trampled by the current administration. Sometimes I feel my service to the world is just listening to lonely people. But why is it I always get the ones who like to ramble on about things I find insulting, degrading, or generally disagreeable? It's a talent, I guess. Anyway, so when he went to our generic business card rack by my desk and was all, is this your card?, thank God I could truthfully say, nah, don't have one, but that's the office card.
So I take it back. Forget the penciled-in name, even. Blank cards are the way to go.