Monday, February 9, 2009

A large meeting room. A sense of opportunity, then fear. Two young women sitting behind a table near the entrance. A man in front of me, fumbling with a small complicated name tag. Folding it. Unfolding it. Sticky backing. No room for names longer than Jones. The women smiled. They didn't mind. They said we were allowed to ruin as many name tags as necessary. I thought, "Why do we need name tags? Why can't we just introduce ourselves?" I put down the tag I was holding and drifted into the crowd. No one was making eye contact because they were all trying to read the name tags. Someone looked at my chest. "I'm up here," I said.

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