“You know, the point of business cards is to share them.” JB is my colleague and friend. He’s a good man, capable, knowledgeable. He’s also my antithesis, an extrovert, a people person. He engages with anyone; has a thousand questions. He’s the nicest of schmoozers, sincere, and genuine. JB collects business cards and has a special folder that holds the ones he receives. He notes where and when he received them. This is a level of dedication that I cannot muster.

Business cards are one of my nightmares. I prefer not to give them out. Perhaps this stems from living in Japan, where business cards are a formality. They are offered with humility and a polite bow; there is reverence. I don’t take myself this seriously.

“Yes, JB, I know what business cards are for.”

“Are you going to use them today?”

“Maybe. I will do my best to give out business cards today,” I declare. We are at a day-long workshop with people from state and federal agencies, biologists, consultants, policy people. It’s a lovely setting on the Columbia River, and despite the gray November day, I would rather be outside.

We enter the building, JB dives into the fray. I go to the bathroom.

I am wearing wide-leg trousers. I love these pants, though, like most girl clothes, the pockets are left wanting. Not quite deep enough to be genuine pockets, but deep enough to lull you into believing something in your pocket will stay there.

I stand up, pulling up my pants, turning to flush simultaneously. The silver business card holder, a gift from my mother (another extrovert), slips from my pocket and into the toilet bowl. Gratefully, the toilet contents are gone, and the case turns sideways against the outflow, stopping its downward spiral. I can only laugh. I reach in, retrieve the case.

I expect the cards are entirely soaked but open the case to find only a few wet edges. Regardless, I empty the case into the bathroom trash and wash the case, my hands, the case again, my hands again, and finally, I pocket the case.

Loitering in the lobby between talks, a man approached me, introduced himself.

“I work for PUD.” This is not auspicious to me. I know PUD is the public utility department, but I would never, ever introduce myself as working for PUD.

I give him my name. It blows by him. We chat for a few minutes. His interest is clearly not related to work or the conference. I don’t know how to extract myself.

To my great relief, JB joins the conversation. The three of us talk for a few minutes. JB now knows the man’s life story and sees that a professional connection could be valuable. I know otherwise but hold my tongue.

Finally, JB turns to me and says, “Did you give him your card?”

“Well…” I politely decline to offer a card.

I took this photo after fleeing the scene. I was grateful to be above the clouds and beyond the realm of business and its cards.