The calling card, previously referred to as a visiting card originated from Europe in the 18th century. It was part of the etiquette for visiting neighbors by leaving cards with name and address to indicate a wish to drop in. The evolved calling card, which has no standard size or format, except that it should fit into a wallet or case, has become part of business paraphernalia, like the cell phone.
Is the calling card still necessary in the digital culture, and as companies and jobs become more obscure? (Can you just give me your mobile number?)
Sure, a salesperson for condos hands cards out along with brochures from a pop-up tent in malls, when they snag passers-by and those waiting for their cars — Sir, we have a van that can whiz you to the site right now. Do you have a card, Sir?
When asked what they do, otherwise unemployed people don’t hand out any card. They just mention their advocacy (I clean up oceans) and leave it at that. A much longer conversation leads to soliciting funds for their operation.
There are senior positions with no precise job descriptions or measurable goals. We note a rise in a tribal paradigm, with the preferred title leaning towards “chiefs,” as in Chief Risk Officer — does he control risk or create it? The “chief” nomenclature does not indicate rank or status, or any other details.
The chief in charge of any nebulous function is included in senior-level meetings. He even gets to pop unexpected questions — what about the reputational risk of your proposal? With the fudgy nature of portfolios, the Chief Transformation Officer (CTO) is not sure if he should waste some doughnuts on a chief in charge of risk.
Not having any measurable accountability does not prevent the head of a silo to go on free trips.
Recently, the person in charge of the urban poor was cashiered for his penchant to fly, insisting he had to check how poverty affects people flying business class. Surely, he has a calling card to give out at some convention in Lisbon. (Is he supposed to alleviate the lot of the poor, or just record their numbers?)
Is it possible to go through corporate life without needing to show a calling card that carries a job title or rank? What does the non-card bearing careerist need to do?
He tries to look cool. He wears blazers that may seem a bit too large on him — did he lose weight at the gym? Is this the business attire for start-ups and venture capitalists? He’s constantly checking his watch — is he late for an important meeting to discuss burn rate and how much longer the runway is?
He keeps his head down. But what happens when a new management takes over? The new CEO can be a familiar face from some long ago training program abroad. But bumping into him at a coffee break for some out-of-town, team-building exercise may invite curiosity — hey, Buddy, do you work here? What do you do? He mentions his title and draws a blank — how do you measure risk?
When a consultant is brought in to review the organization, he inquires about the large number of chiefs. (Where are the teepees?) In the interview of key executives for the climate survey, few are even aware there was a specific chief for “golden opportunities.” It used to be called business development.
Even when he keeps a low profile, a chief’s organizational box keeps popping up at the power point reviews. Soon after, he is called in by the new CEO. (How you doing, Buddy?) After short pleasantries, he is asked that dreaded question — what is it exactly you do? Can I see your calling card? (They didn’t give me a new one, Sir.)
The dispensing of calling cards removes the need to search for an appropriate title for an undefined function. Of course, there are some icons sitting in the board or popping up as consultants who are not expected to even have calling cards — they need no introductions.
Anyway, at a certain point in a career (usually very late) it’s best to dispense with a calling card. You can still introduce yourself with your name and drop some other initials that may ring bells, maybe some milestone activity. (I invented reserved seating at the cinema.) Being empty-handed forces people to wonder what you now do and whether you’re worth talking with… or giving a card to.
A. R. Samson is chair and CEO of Touch DDB.
