I wear a badge.
Wow, that sounded pretty cool, huh? OK, so, before this gets any further, my badge conveys absolutely no legal authority. The only thing arrested about me is my development. If I were a police officer, I'd be the one to whom they only gave one bullet. And no gun.
No, the badge I wear, at least if I haven't left it in my car, or my briefcase, or my wife's car, on my desk or on someone else's desk, demonstrates that I'm actually allowed to be in my place of business. Because it's all fun and games until someone gets Tasered.
Now that's not exactly a unique situation. The badge-wearing deal, not the Tasering. Though, perhaps I'm just unusually lucky in my workplace selection. Anyway, there are about 30,000 of us in Northwest Arkansas with that particular badge, and lots more with the badges of other companies, since badges have replaced name plates and "Hello, I'm (Fill In the Blank)" stickers as the workplace identifiers of choice.
Which is OK, since jabbing yourself with one of those name plate studs won't qualify you for worker's comp, but will make you the subject of much humor at your expense. And nothing messes up an entire load of laundry quite like accidentally washing a shirt with one of those tags on it.
The idea of wearing badges was probably born of someone's desire not to feel guilty that he's worked in the same office for 10 years and sees the same guy every morning in the coffee line, a guy to whom he was introduced on his first day -- along with about 12,000 other people -- and who he's been waving to so long he can't bring himself to admit he never really knew his name.
The concept was probably first broached at a staff meeting, when someone said, "We're a really big office and we don't all know each other. What we really need is a way of identifying people. How about we all wear badges with our names on them?" To which the meeting chairman said, "That's a great idea, Bill!" That no doubt would have made the guy with the badge idea even happier if it weren't for the fact his name was Steve.
Why we have pictures on the badges, I'm not sure. Apparently, the concern is that, after a long day, someone might discover his badge lying on a desk with three or four others and realize he's forgotten his own name and didn't know which one was his.
Of course, this is presupposing that, after a long day, I can even recognize my own face. Hey, you know, it's easy to forget things, and after a while, some people just don't pay that much attention when they shave.
I do, however, have the sneaking suspicion the entire purpose behind the picture is to give everyone else at your office something to chuckle at. We've all made some unfortunate mustache-haircut choices over the years. Why they seem to happen just before you take a new job is one of the great mysteries of life. Along with why anyone, anywhere ever thought a mullet was a good idea.
All of which would be OK, if it weren't for the fact that we don't tend to change our ID photos as often as we change, say, our entire appearance. Many of us are traveling through our work day with the equivalent of our prom picture on our name badge.
OK, so, at least this time I'm not wearing a forest green tux.
Of course, there is an upside to all of this. For one thing, it's nice to know exactly whom you're talking to, even if you're already supposed to know. And it's good to be able to put names together with faces. And pictures of faces, some of which bear little resemblance to the actual faces.
It's a crazy, crazy world we live in, so the idea that everyone in your building actually has something with his picture on it to prove he's supposed to be there is a reassuring idea. The fact that the picture makes you laugh is definitely a bonus.
So yes, I wear a badge. At least I'm supposed to. If I can remember where I put it. Probably next to my lone bullet.
GARY SMITH IS A RECOVERING JOURNALIST LIVING IN ROGERS.
Commentary on 10/23/2014