I aspired to start my own electrical company and I figured the most logical first step to do so was to get myself some business cards. So, I ordered a thousand of them. I imagined myself leaving them around town, dropping them at the bank, or at the mall, maybe in the library, everywhere people would see them, I envisioned myself leaving them. I wanted to make a name for myself using my business cards. I never pictured myself using them the way I did.
I had a roommate once and him and I would smoke like a chimney. We smoked it all bongs, blunts, joints, you name it, we smoked it. When it came to joints though, we hated the Scooby snacks that would get left behind in our mouth after taking a hit We’d run to the trash to spit into the barrel all the unsmoked crumbs in our mouth. We both found ourself constantly running to the convenient store to pick up a pack of filters so frequently so we could smoke it was getting irritating. One night, after we had a session or two and wanted to have a third but we ran out of filters. Neither now of us was capable of running out, nor did we want to. I just said fuck it, let’s just use my business cards. We then took the the kitchen and cut up one of my cards into about eight filters. It was perfect, I had way to many business cards to hand out and luckily word of mouth has been my best promo, so I figured since I already paid for them, let’s smoke them.
The only other time I ever used my business card was at bars. I never gave them out for business, ever. It was for pure recreational purposes. I wasn’t handing them out to the manger for some business, or the guy that runs a contracting company I met. No, I was handing them out to girls. Looking back at it, it was kind of douchey of me. In my head it was perfect, I didn’t have to go make a full blown conversation with a girl before I could ask them for their number. I could just sneak up behind her and slip my business card into her hand. I could hand it to her before I leave and say goodbye. Hell I could even leave it on the table and play card roulette and see what happens. I never had the pressure worrying about how many days I had to wait to text someone, it was all on them. The ball was in there court and I was stress free. Now writing about it, it’s definitely a douchebag move of me to do consider I’m a glorified handyman. I’m handing out business cards with my name on them like I’m Jeff Bezos.
There have been a few times I’ve actually got text from some of the girls I gave a card to a few days later. At the rate I was throwing those things around it was as if I was Oprah, “You get a card, you get a card, you get a card.” I was bound to get a text from someone. Sometimes they mess with me, quizzing me on the night we met, wondering if I remember them and the night we met. I could always play it off treating the conversation more professionally rather than flirtatious so she would reveal a free hints about the night we met, leaving me in the clear. They’d eventually reveal themselves, once they get annoyed with my playing dumb.
Now after I write this I can’t help but think how much of a douche I must have seemed handing out my business cards like that. In all honesty it’s wicked lame of me. Yeah as a guy it may be ideal, but as a gentleman it doesn’t make much sense. It’s not like I’m Hugh Hefner where the business card actually holds some weight. I’m just your average Tony Tomato. If I want a girls number I have to earn it the old fashion way and ask for it. Then stress the next two days wondering if it’s too early to text her.