I’m so ashamed of this confession.
But I can no longer conceal my offence.
Hello; I’m Paul. I’m a corporate communications expert.
And my business card is crap.
Not only is this card boring, it’s utterly out of sync with my brand.
Because it’s too thin, it curls like fly paper when exposed to board room conditions.
If that’s not enough, it’s two millimetres shorter than a normal card because the printer misaligned the text and I let him trim the batch instead of telling him to redo it!
Pulling it out makes me cringe.
This wasn’t a problem during the GFC. But lately, having met with prospective clients who bill $160 m and $500 m respectively, the mortification is unbearable.
To top it off, I just read Angela den Hollander’s brilliant post, which contains this chilling line:
Cheap business cards are just about the most expensive mistake I see many business owners making.
So, enough already.
Age of Innocence
Of course, it wasn’t always like this.
When I went freelance, I had a beautiful card designed and printed with double-sided cello sheen.
Flitting from desk to desk, I sprinkled these among my former work mates.
The obverse bore a beautiful, Empire-like font, with tiny edge overlaps to show I could think outside boxes – but wasn’t a freak.
The reverse countered this claim by featuring a farting biting cat rampant with trailed fetters (symbolising my joyous release from corporate bondage).
I loved this card.
But then I learnt that love doesn’t conquer all.
So I finally agreed to lose the cat.
Catless in Collateral
Adam, as we saw, did a marvellous job on my logo. He even saved the fancy font.
But turning this artwork into a business card proved problematic. Always impatient with technical challenges, I threw the task in my too-hard basket and ‘designed’ the aforementioned cookie-cutter (with extra cut).
Yesterday, at yet another high level pitch (this time with a BIG government department) I proffered my miserable slip.
The prospect knew me from my agency days. It wasn’t enough that he looked at the card like it belonged closer to his rear than his wallet.
He actually said, ‘What happened to your old card with the cat? I really liked that card!’
And so I’m in business card hell. I can’t go back. I can’t go forward alone. I need a deus ex machina to resolve my tragic comedy ASAP.
Is your business card any good?
If so, how? Who? And how much?
If not, why not?
Pray lay it on our table.
Paul Hassing, Founder & Senior Writer, The Feisty Empire