How does a business card make you feel?

Are they a relic of a bygone era, or do they still have a place in the modern world?

Wake Up And Smell The Copy recently took delivery of our first-ever set of cards, and I have to say the excitement of seeing them, popping a few into my wallet, and then actually giving them to another human being felt surprisingly special.

This was a bit of a spontaneous decision; I was off to a local networking event and thought maybe I should have some cards, just in case. I contacted the outstanding The Sustainable Printworks, who are used to my unreasonable demands, and in this case, of course, I decided to make things difficult by asking for four different versions. I have to say I was utterly delighted. This is the first reason why I think business cards still have their place, and it's one not often mentioned - the effect they have on the person named on the card.

What does your card say about you?

It used to be a rite of passage: "I am important enough to this company for them to spend ￡20 on a stack of cards for me". I suspect those of a certain age all remember their first business card, and I’d even be prepared to bet an incredibly small amount of money that one of the first ones given out was probably to a proud parent. Even now there's something a little special in seeing a new venture represented in card form.

The famous scene from American Psycho probably represents the apex of business card culture, a film released nearly a quarter of a century ago, based on a novel from a decade earlier. I like to make sure my cultural references are bang up-to-date. Perhaps the importance of a well-designed business card is now as anachronistic as power suits and people casually smoking in the office. Surely, we all just connect on Linked In? Maybe the real value of the platform is to free up space in a desk drawer that used to be occupied by the business cards of people you’ve met, aren’t likely to speak to again, but feel you have some obligation not to forget instantly.

How does the person receiving the card feel?

For me though, it is the ease with which connections are so easily made, and cheaply forgotten, that makes a business card special in the modern world. It signifies a real-world connection “we’ve actually met” and presumably spoken for long enough to exchange a small piece of card. There is a value to that transaction that goes beyond the cost of the card and ink itself. Though that is not to be sniffed at.

There is undeniably an effect on the recipient, even in the fleeting personal contact of the exchange. We are social animals, and recent years have reduced our opportunities to make real-world connections, the exchange of business cards feels so much more valuable than a connection on Linked In.

Valuable connections

At the bare minimum, your business card says, “I am prepared to spend 5p in the hope you will get in touch with me again”. Powerful. Although people certainly used to spend a lot more.

At the risk of sounding like a new column in Private Eye, I still remember the best business card I’ve ever received. I met the then Global CMO of McDonald's at a conference, his name is still with me - Larry Light, because of his business card. The conversation was not a long one, and he employed a tactic I’m sure they teach at Harvard Business School: The card appeared from nowhere, was pressed into my hand in an almost imperceptible single movement, and Keyser Soze-like, he was gone. I turned the card over and discovered, printed on the front (or was it the back?), a ￡5 McDonald’s voucher.

I kept that card in my wallet for a long time. I was impressed, I felt valued. At the very least the global CMO of McDonald’s was prepared to spend ￡5 of his company’s money just to get rid of me. Powerful.

I emailed Larry, told him in detail how his card made me feel, and offered some searing insight into the power of connection, not unlike this very article. So impressed was he that he offered me a job as his right-hand man in Europe, which paid for the palatial mansion I occupy as I type this on a gold-plated keyboard.

Of course, that Sliding Doors moment (bringing my decades-old film references up to the industry standard three an article) didn’t happen. A few months later, well refreshed, I stumbled into the Tottenham Court Road McDonald’s and exchanged it for a meal deal. There was a brief stir, an appeal to someone with the correct number of stars to verify the voucher, and Larry went out of my life. Not the happiest of meals.

However, the idea has always stuck with me, and I’ve worked on a few sales-led campaigns where interesting business cards work to make the person named on it feel valued and deliver an extra bit of extra value to the recipient.

Pick a card, any card.

But back to our cards, which do not carry any retail value. In fact, like every present I buy my wife, the monetary value is vastly outweighed by the sentimental.

We went a little further with our cards and I have since developed a little game. The four quotes on the back are all from people we admire, who have something important to say about the craft of writing. We like them all, but I like to give people a choice, sometimes guessing which they will choose. So far, in a very unscientific tally, Kurt Vonnegut is a clear favourite. This is as it should be, there’s a great collection of his further writing advice here. I’ve ignored at least five of them in this post.

In a couple of instances, I’ve introduced someone to a quote, and a writer they weren’t aware of. These cards contain little nuggets of knowledge, expensively won, but freely given. The pretentiousness is also free.

What’s my point?

Essentially, this is a very long way of saying I like our new business cards, and maybe I’ve fallen in love with the idea of them again. Perhaps I’m just nostalgic for the good old days. I’m off to watch some 90s films.