Someone special has given you something special made out of a fine chiffon or silk. Someone special has also enrolled you for a marketing seminar for good-looking people. You go there and find out that you’re surrounded by people wearing veterinary name tags and real estate name badges. You think to yourself, well, this is irritating. What’s up with the un-represented demographic of really good-looking people as promised? The veterinarians look you up and down, blowing stray cat hairs off their upper-lips. The real estate agents stare at you between the eyebrows with a gaze, both focused and alienating. You realize in due time, that your fellow conference goers don’t know what to make of you. Are you a model? A animatronic statue? A woman of questionable intent and motivation? Who’s to say? You have no nametag. They seem at a loss for how to address you.
One attendee bumps into you at the morning reception table. A bagel almost affixes itself to your skirt. “Hi. Excuse me,” he says, adjusting his name badge nervously. You notice that he’s a rather attractive man with enormous hands and feet. At that moment, you promise yourself that you will return to your hotel room and use the complimentary wi-fi to research your options for identifying yourself. You pour yourself a glass of chilled white wine from a frosted bottle in the mini-fridge. You shift in your computer chair. Your chiffon blouse sticks to your skin. As you scroll through the options presented to you via Google search, you find your solution. Magnetic name tags for clothes at a site called Tag-UR-it. Witty, you murmur to yourself and nod approvingly. The nature of the nametag mechanism has something to do with a well-placed magnet inside the clothes. You approve and click, CHECK-OUT, and think, yeah, check me out.


