Before we go any further, I have to warn you. I carry a badge.
By that I mean I wear one, around my neck on a brightly colored rope thing called a lanyard, which is a derivation of a French word that means "strap" or "thong." So, if this were, say, Paris, I'd be wearing a brightly colored thong around my neck.
Perhaps that's not all that unusual there, but from where we sit, it's one more reason, besides the attitude and the fact that they eat snails and muskrat, to be glad we're not actually in France.
As for the badge part of the ensemble (which is another French word for, in my case, jeans and a button-down plaid shirt), it typically conveys a certain air of seriousness and authority with just a little sense of danger.
I use mine to get in the building, where my desk and, most importantly, the coffee are. And that keeps a few people from danger. At least until mid-afternoon.
So, to recap, a policeman's badge says, "I'm the law." Mine says, "Yep, you still work here. And, staff meeting at 8, so let's not dawdle around getting through those revolving doors. Don't let your backpack get caught or you'll shut down the whole thing and have to wander around for five minutes until the system will let you in."
The question is why are these things are called "badges" in the first place, if they're not really badges in the sense that we understand badges to be? And the answer is, apparently, because we had to call them something, and "badge" is much easier than calling it "that thing with your picture on it that you wave close to that thing on the wall with lights on it that makes a noise and lets you into rooms and such, but only if you can get close enough to it while holding a laptop, cellphone and cup of coffee or didn't put it near a credit card and demagnetize it, which I don't think happens anymore but used to or at least that's what I've heard, although I've never actually done it. "
That definitely is not going to fit on the sign over the door to the room where they take your picture and make your, you know. Even if we used really small type and lots of abbreviations. But don't tempt us.
Now the thing about badge pictures is they're usually taken on your first day of work. And pretty soon after the event, say, in about a week, you don't look like that anymore. And after five years, your badge photo might as well be a prom picture.
You either had much more hair or had hair decidedly darker. Or maybe you made a really unfortunate hair choice and your badge serves as a monument to those briefest of moments when a mullet was in fashion.
While I choose to wear my badge on the aforementioned and dissected lanyard, lots of people make other choices. Some use a clip with a tiny retractable cable that theoretically allows them to extend the badge to the magic box that lets them into a room. Except that involves having a free hand, which, as we've discussed, they might not have. Which means they get to hop up and down, trying to get the badge near the box. Doesn't work often, but it's fun to see. Kind of like that mullet picture.
There are also those who just clip their badges onto their clothing, which has the advantage of ripping shirts, jackets, belt loops ... oh, wait. An advantage is supposed to be a good thing...
Well, the clip deal does come loose a lot, so you get to go see the nice people in the Badge Room for replacements quite a bit, which is good. And you get rid of the mullet picture.
Look, if you work in an office larger than a fire watch tower in Montana, chances are good a badge is, literally, the price of admission. And, worst case, they're not that much of a bother. Best case they keep you from having to embarrass yourself by asking the name of the person you've sat behind for two years. Well, at least the first name.
And, it could be worse. In Paris, a badge is a plaque, which I thought was something mouthwash and flossing was supposed to take care of. OK, probably not the same thing. And yet another reason to be glad we're not in France.
Commentary on 02/07/2020