business

Future coaster.

Here’s my card. But don’t ask me what you’re supposed to do with it. Perhaps you could use it as a coaster, or round the edges with an exacto knife and turn it into a small frisbee. Better yet, you could hand the business card back to me and we can pretend that this little exchange of ink and compacted tree fibers never happened. For reals, now, does anyone actually use business cards? I have a pile of perfect strangers’ business cards on my desk, and an even larger pile of my own business cards in my desk, and I have never – not even hoo-wonce – used them towards any purpose other than tricking myself into thinking I am of a least a corpuscle of importance in The Business World. You know, I bet it would be more cost effective, not to mention environmentally friendly, if we all agreed to exchange five dollar bills at meetings, conferences and post-armed-robbery-safe-houses. And, just to be clear, I am in no way condoning the defacement of United States Currency, but if Honest Abe should happen to be wearing a top hat and monocle with a dialogue bubble coming out of his mouth with the caption, “Four score and seven jobs ago, I gave Nailsbails my full endorsement as a Handsome Titan of Industry,” you should probably take down the contact information on the reverse side. After all, you never know when you’re going to need seven hundred jokes about cats…fast.

Fire away.

Check this out. Get it? I’m writing you a check, so I said check this out. Do you see what I did there? It’s called wordplay. Google it. But don’t try to tango with this cowboy. I am very, very, very, very, very good at using words. For example, I just used five very’s in a row without so much as batting a single eyelash. Besides being impossible, batting a single eyelash is an outward indication that somebody’s confidence is waning. Ergo my confidence IS NOT waning. Anyway, as usual, I’ve gotten way off topic. I came here today to talk to you about checks, and how much I love writing them. Strange, I know. You would think that writing a check would be a painful, even demoralizing exercise. After all, you are signing away a portion of your acorn stockpile (money) every time you Hancock that bottom line. Me? I find writing checks to be exciting and visceral; it makes me feel distinguished. To wit: I am able to purchase goods and/or services by simply writing my name on a piece of paper. Do you know who else pays for things by writing their name on pieces of paper? Titans of Industry, that’s who. That’s right: yours truly is rubbing elbows with Robber Barons, Steel Magnates and Ponzi Schemers every time he whips out the checkbook and ballpoint pen. You can tell a lot about a person by looing at the company they keep. Which is why you shouldn’t judge me for writing a check to purchase this football video game at a seedy electronics store (I’m out of cash).