Trying to avoid that conversation? Don't wear a name tag | TribLIVE.com
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Trying to avoid that conversation? Don't wear a name tag

Matt Sober
| Wednesday, November 19, 2003 5:00 a.m.
Many years of experience as a party to faux pas, social blunders and embarrassing encounters have taught me at least one thing. Any social setting that requires you to attach a name tag to yourself carries the potential for disaster. Greater potential for disaster than social settings that don't require name tags, at least. In settings where there are no name tags, we're all free to ignore each other. And that covers about 98 percent of social situations, thank goodness. At the ballgame. On the street. In the grocery store. Even family functions. The presence of name tags, however, is a sure indication that you're in a situation where you'll be expected to interact in a polite, personal way with people you would otherwise prefer to ignore. Seminars. Workshops. Conferences. Business functions. Some common factor has brought you all together, but it's probably not a desire to make new friends. Name tags send a clear, unambiguous signal. Name tags say "Hey, come talk to me." Wearing a name tag implies that you are open to friendly conversation. For those of us who would prefer to remain anonymous, there could be nothing further from the truth. On average, people with name tags attached to themselves run a far greater risk of getting mixed up in awkward exchanges and inane conversations. It's only natural. I can hardly strike up a meaningful conversation with members of my family, let alone a bunch of perfect strangers. It's the same social dynamic you experience in a crowded elevator, except that in an elevator, you can stare at the floor, bite your lip and take comfort in the knowledge that it will all be over in a matter of seconds. The common factor that has brought you all together in an elevator is an unwillingness to climb several flights of stairs, and that obviously doesn't merit any discussion. Hence, the rare use of name tags by people riding elevators. Not coincidentally, I recently happened to find myself in a situation where name tags were required for participation. It was a networking function for Penn State alumni in the offices of a Pittsburgh advertising agency. Although I was interested in the benefits of "networking," I hesitated to RSVP, because I suspected the actual "networking" process would be uncomfortable. Having never "networked," I wasn't exactly sure what to expect, but I figured it would require highly sophisticated social skills such as introducing yourself, smiling, shaking hands and making polite conversation. I went anyway. Approaching that table with the name tags on it outside the conference room, I asked myself a question I've asked a thousand times before: "What the hell have you gotten yourself into this time?" But I resisted the urge to turn around. Facing the prospect of isolation at an event conducted for the express purpose of connecting with new people, I quickly identified a target and launched an offensive. Fear can compel you to do things you otherwise wouldn't be capable of. I spotted another young fellow who walked in by himself and approached him with some phony question I'd concocted -- the ulterior motive, of course, being to start one of those "polite conversations." It was kind of like flirting. Uncomfortably so, now that I think about it. James -- a recent Penn State graduate -- and I basically spent the better part of the next two hours networking with each other. We were so uneasy among all of the professionals and distinguished alumni that we even passed on a tempting buffet. Ripping apart chicken wings in the presence of smartly attired, well-spoken professionals takes a certain degree of self-assuredness. So James and I sipped on bottled water and tried not to do anything stupid. In the end, I'm not sure who got the worse end of the deal. Me, networking with an unemployed 23-year-old in search of his first job, or James, networking with a guy who was networking for the first time, and not very well. I can't speak for my friend James, but I gained very little from the experience. Not even a chicken wing.


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