Badged

I was first required to wear an identification badge for my job sometime in the 1990s, when I was working for Disney. Whether it was clipped on or hung from a lanyard, the ID badge has been there to get me past specific doors, into sensitive areas, or through security gates. I've become so accustomed to the darned things that I nearly feel nekkid without one--especially in a work situation.

The use of badges is curious to me the more that I think about it. They are little more than plastic cards with your picture, your authorizing organization, and some other data or functionality, depending on the badge (including door and computer access). Yet the badge has a very distinct set of social meanings, depending on your line of work. It is displayed as a public symbol of trust, acceptance, authority, officialdom.

Badges have some other connotations as well. They sometimes denote professional or social rank. They tell others where you can and cannot go. Wear one outside a facility that requires one, and you're pegged as belonging to a specific organization or even social class. You can be pegged as a "government man," for example, or "a suit." They can make the individual feel like they're wearing a dog tag. The darn things get in the way at times.

Why am I reflected on this now? Because I'm about to move into an environment where I won't need to wear a badge every day. It's liberating, and a little strange. That's not to say I won't have access cards--my new employer has two at the moment--and I'll probably end up visiting facilities that require the publicly displayed badge in the near future. But it does make me wonder a little bit about the culture/mindset of large organizations vs. small. Not all jobs need a badge, or even a name tag. Sometimes just your face will do. I wonder what it would take to get back to a truly "badgeless" society.

Problems With the People at the Top

One of the advantages of staying out of management for years and years (not just accidentally but by active pursuit) is that I've been able to criticize it with a clear conscience. Because once you're in charge, you can't complain, right? (Reason enough to punish Keith Cowing by making him the NASA Administrator.)

Anyhow, I've been hearing for months now how evil and disgusting it is that corporations have been giving bonuses to CEOs and other high officers in the midst of bad economic times or for making bad economic decisions in good times. I don't know, quite frankly. As a stockholder of several companies, I do write letters, usually when it comes time to fill out my stockholder's ballot. I vote for throwing out the entire board, when it suits me, not that it makes a whole lot of difference. Why do companies reward someone for acting against the company's best interests? I have no clue. That outrages me, too, thank you very much. (But, I hasten to add, I'm an owner. That's my business. If the companies in which I'm a stockholder do not take federal bailout money, it's not the government's or the media's business, either.)

But then where is this same outrage when elected officials try to ram legislation through Congress that is directly against the best interests of the United States? What about amnesty for illegal immigrants? What about spending nearly $800 billion on a spending bill that more Americans do not want? Where is the outrage against the arrogance of power now? Never mind, I forgot. It's Obama, and he can do no wrong.