The first time I drove down Route 27 I saw the most amazing house I had ever laid eyes on. The date was August 18, 1999, and I was about a half hour from completing my drive from St. Louis, Missouri to Oxford, Ohio. As I topped a large hill I saw a beautiful, wood two-story with a few acres of land and a pond in the back. That image permanently stuck in my mind. It looked like something out of a Thomas Kinkade painting, and it was simply breathtaking. About three seconds later, another image stuck in my mind: that of a blue truck traveling eighty miles an hour wildly honking at me because I had swerved into its lane while gazing at my dream house.
So much for nostalgia.
Shortly after escaping death by stupidity, I thought back to my mental picture. It must have been the house’s front porch that first attracted my attention. Ahhh, the front porch. I never had one growing up. I wish I had though—what a friendly gesture and welcoming symbol front porches represent. They extend a veritable invitation and an outlet for communication.
However, it seems that the front porch as a representation of hospitality is no longer a primary component of our daily lives. Throughout the last fifty years, dramatic sociological and technological changes have caused our lives to become more demanding, mobile and individualistic than ever. Fortunately, we still get everything done. The only problem is that in our haste, we often isolate ourselves and sacrifice the friendly communications that once flourished in our society. In short, front porches don’t seem necessary because people are either too busy or too scared to step onto them. So, it simply boils down to a sociological problem that happens to be architecturally manifest. I’ve noticed that people’s willingness to reach out and socialize with others has declined to a level that strongly represents a bare minimum of only the required amount of interpersonal communication. It also seems that people are reluctant to communicate with strangers, and they allow this apprehension to get the best of them.
Essentially, people don’t want to step onto someone else’s front porch, and they don’t want them stepping onto theirs. Here’s a good example. Have you ever purposely looked off into the distance or stared at the pavement as you passed another person solely to avoid acknowledging them? People do this all the time. Or fixed your eyes on the floor lights when you enter the elevator? Ever notice that? I guess most people would rather brush up on their basic counting skills than talk to a stranger.
Not me.
Hello, my name is Scott.
To begin, I must first admit that I’m definitely not the most normal person in the world. But then again, who’s to say what normal is anyway? I suppose I’m just an eccentric, or in a broader sense, just an interesting guy. I am also by no means a genius or a literary scholar. At least, I don’t think I am.
I am merely a man whose goal in life is to be friendly to everyone in order to break down walls of social trepidation, and spread the sheer joy that can be found through interpersonal interaction. To put it into better terms, I wish to invite everyone to sit on my front porch to help enhance our society’s level of communication. And, my individual method of accomplishing this goal is carried out by one simple, consistent act: wearing a nametag.
In the beginning, it all started out as an experiment. "What would happen if I wore a nametag all the time?" I wondered.
Maybe people would be friendlier.
Maybe people would say hello to me.
Maybe people would stare at me and think I was a complete weirdo!
I predicted that people’s reactions to wearing a nametag would be pretty interesting. What I did not predict, however, was that wearing a nametag would eventually change my entire life.
So that’s what this book is about—reactions. It’s about stories of people stepping onto my front porch. It’s about anecdotes and interesting predicaments in which I have found myself thanks to wearing a nametag, all for the sake of creating a friendlier society. Throughout these narratives, I will simply illustrate how I have serendipitously found wearing a nametag to be an effective means of stimulating friendly, interpersonal interactions with others; and how it has impacted me as well as my environment.
But I must preface by saying that this is not a self-help book, nor is it a "how to" book, nor am I trying to convince everyone to wear nametags. Let me repeat that: I am not trying to convince everyone to wear nametags. I’m realistic. I know that there’s no way in hell everyone would want to wear nametags—it’s just not gonna happen. Now, would it be great if everyone did wear nametags? Who really knows for sure?
The only thing I do know for sure is that by wearing a nametag, I have discovered my own simple, creative and unique way to encourage people to be friendlier and more sociable. If other people want to follow my lead and start wearing nametags too, that’s great! I won’t stop them! But the key to changing a society to one of a more sociable and communicative nature is this: each person must find an appropriate front porch through which their own personality can be effectively manifested.
The good news is that these front porches for increasing friendliness exist endlessly and can be used freely and abundantly by all who have the desire to better our world's communication. I hope that someday you too will discover a front porch that works for you.
Me, I choose to wear a nametag.
Welcome to my front porch.
