Misspelled name tag: this failure represents fundamental ignorance in use of modern tools

When considering large events manned by many dedicated planners, is there ever an excuse for failing to copy and paste a user’s digital registration information for the production of printed physical name tags?

In the second decade of the 21st Century, why am I still walking into events to find my name misspelled on a slip of paper? This is ostensibly my introduction to a crowd of strangers. I think it is fairly important to get this right.

I registered electronically for an event at a major institution. My name was entered into a database via my own keystrokes.

Is it possible that I made a mistake, either in spelling or in accurately hitting the keys?

Yes.

Is that likely?

No.

Most probable is the scenario wherein a clerk was given a list of names from which to generate the event’s badges.

Maybe someone else printed out the list of names from that database that resided on an internet connected computer. That can only be regarded as a waste of paper, unless those names were going to be cut apart by hand(!) and physically glued onto cardstock or labels.

The names were not adhered onto tags for this event.

I can’t even imagine a scenario in which a printed list would be superior to an electronically transmitted or digitally shared copy when the end result is to be printed out by machine onto cards as was the case here.

The computer is a tool, and a powerful one. Reference is often made to digital natives with the implication that familiarity has bred competence.

Though computer use is now ubiquitous by all segments of society, it is clear that many people remain fundamentally ignorant as to how best to make use of one. A shocking number seem unable to even make good use of these familiar devices.

This may be acceptable when a fast food cashier taps at pictographs representing burgers and fries and mindlessly gives change in amounts calculated by the computerized register, but is this level of abstraction from functionality acceptable in professional office staff?

Comfort does not equal competence.

Exposé: My son’s moral protractor

Spoken by my younger son today:

“I don’t have a moral compass.

I have a moral protractor!”

protractor - 1

It’s moments like this that make a geek mother smile. Also, the fact that my neon protractor from eighth grade has somehow remained in my possession for thirty years is a point of pride.

Yes, the standard clear model is easier to use, but it’s less massively awesome. Like, totally.

If I were really cool, I’d have a slide rule handy to add to the math tool photo spread. Alas, I’m a product of the pocket calculator age. I did inherit my grandfather’s slide rule cuff links, however, making me capable of geek chic if I wear French cuffs.

The cuff links are purely decorative facsimiles of the venerable manual calculator, of course. That’s the first question everyone asks. Imagine how tiny those logarithm scales would have to be to fit on something that slips through a buttonhole!

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