The Name Tag Project

I attended the BlogHer conference in Chicago last week.  For those of you who have never heard of BlogHer, it’s the largest women’s blogging organization in the whole wide world.  It was tons of fun and very informative.  I met all kinds of bloggers; crafters, juicers, political junkies, stepmothers, the list goes on and on.   I am left wondering if there is a BlogHim conference somewhere—probably Vegas.

My friend Lian and I, that would be Lian Dolan from Satellite Sisters and Chaos Chronicles, palled around the Sheraton trying to come up with a new, “high concept” idea for a new blog/book and movie deal.  You know like Alex, the Seattle performance artist who wore the same brown dress for a year and then built a following by blogging about it. And Julie Powell, the woman who attempted to cook all the recipes in Julia Child‘s Mastering the Art of French Cooking, that’s 524 recipes in 365 days.  After chronicling her day to day cooking escapades on her blog Powell landed a book deal and a movie deal starring Meryl Streep.  

 My idea, the one that I just couldn’t shake, which got a lot of laughs from Lian, was the “name tag project.” 

“What would happen,” I asked Lian, who is a self professed name tag lover, “if I wore a name tag for a year—never took it off?  365 days, 24 hours a day.”  She laughed as I continued to describe my high concept.  “I suppose if the name tag got soiled you could replace it with a new one.  Regardless, the idea is I would wear it everywhere, you know swimming, running, Pilates, taking my son to school, my husband’s Christmas party, grocery shopping.”   We both laughed out loud while I continued to imagine the reactions the “name tag project” would evoke from my immediate public. 

“Maybe I would change my name everyday; you know work up some real doozies.  Like Wanda May Jones, Pepper LaBeija, or Gas Ambrosia (this is a real name according to my friend who is a teacher in a colorful neighborhood). 

 When I got home I pitched the concept to my husband and kids.  They snickered and told me I was crazy.  My husband, while trying to feign support, said he’d tire of the experiment quickly, especially in bed.  My seven year old son told me he’d be really embarrassed especially when we had sleepovers at our house. 

   “You people don’t have vision,” I complained loudly.   “I’ll have the last laugh when the Avery label people offer me a lucrative sponsorship.  And after that I am sure I’ll land a book deal maybe even a movie.” 

 “Who will act out your part?”  My husband asked? 

 “I don’t know, it’s a toss up, maybe Katie Holmes or Meryl Streep.  Who ever shows the most enthusiasm for the project.”

Where are your manners?

I have recently received some strange social invitations that have had me longing for the practical and old fashioned wisdom of Emily Post. 

I was standing there at the market knocking on watermelons to check for ripeness when a woman I am friendly with approached me.  “Hey, what are you guys doing tonight?  We have tickets to Cowboy Junkies and Sun Volt at the Zoo Tunes.  Do you want to go?” 

 What an invitation I thought.  I had been meaning to buy tickets for that very same show earlier in the season but didn’t get around to it until they were completely sold out—they went fast. 

 “Sure we’d love to go.”  I responded, thinking she was offering tickets for my husband and I or at the very least offering to sell us her spare tickets. 

 “Well, she said, you’ll have to scalp some tickets but I am sure you can get some at the entrance.” 

 Hmmm.  I felt like I had just been let in on a bad joke.  I don’t want to scalp tickets for anything.  I am a 40—something year-old woman and the idea of getting a babysitter lined up “just in case” I can covertly scam a few tickets to a concert doesn’t sound like fun to me.  I politely declined, “no, on second thought we’re busy tonight.” 

 I think she could have said something like this instead.  “Hey, we’re going to the zoo concert tonight.  I know it’s kind of a risk, but if you and Mark (my husband) want to try and go I think you might be able to scalp tickets.  We’d love to see you there.” 

 About a week later another friend asked my husband and I, “Hey do you guys like theater? We have two tickets to the 5th Ave. theater tomorrow.”   My husband and I both responded at the same time, “Yes,” I said.  “No,” he said.   “I’ll take them I said, I would love to see the play.  I’ll invite one of my friends if he doesn’t want to go.”  Now in my mind I was doing them a favor, taking the two tickets that might not otherwise be used, off their hands. 

 “O.K.,” she said awkwardly, “well we were hoping that we could do dinner first.”   It was then that I realized that they wanted us to attend the play “with” them.  I suddenly realized that they didn’t want just one of us they wanted the two of us or the plan was a no go.  It was uncomfortable and weird but I squirmed my way out of the invitation and I am hopeful that they found another heterosexual couple to share the tickets with. 

 Now why didn’t this woman say, “My husband and I are going to the theater and we have two extra tickets.  Would two like to attend and join us for dinner beforehand?”

 It was the third invite that really stumped me.  A good friend of mine called to say she had an extra ticket to a concert  because her husband was traveling and couldn’t make the show.  She asked if I would like to attend with her.  I jumped at the chance.  Following the concert she asked that if I could pay her for the ticket.  Huh?  I was shocked and surprised.  I thought I was going as her guest.  Weird!

 What has happened to good old fashioned communication, to etiquette, to manners?  I think what we need is a little Emily to the rescue!