Peer pressure prevails when signing cards for co-workers

by Beth Teitell
Wednesday, April 24, 2002

I dodged a bullet at work last week. I was out of the office when a ``goodbye'' card for a departing colleague made the rounds for signing.

Better she should think I cared so little I wouldn't take the time to scribble ``Good Luck!'' than I should have to face the group card, with its pressure to reduce an entire relationship down to a few pithy or sweet or sarcastic words, which are appropriate not only for the recipient, but for the whole office (i.e. no inside jokes about the boss, even if that's the only thing you and your co-worker ever bonded over).

It's high school yearbook time all over again, but somehow the old standby - ``best friends forever!'' - no longer feels right.

``You know the person's going to keep the card for a long time, so you want to write something meaningful or clever,'' a colleague who's pregnant said when I mentioned the whole card thing to the people in my office pod.

Everyone sitting around the pregnant woman agreed, and then we realized something: She'd be going on maternity leave soon, and that meant one thing and one thing only for the rest of us: a card.

``You and I are good friends,'' a co-worker said to her, ``but we don't share any private jokes. What am I going to write???''

``Remember we talked about coconut pie?'' another asked. ``I might say something about that.''

As for me, I claimed first dibs on ``Hope you get some sleep! Ha! Ha!''

But I knew it was a meaningless maneuver. Some people steal sentiments from those who've signed before them. ``The person getting the card is not going to know who wrote what first - there's no carbon dating,'' a veteran sneak told me.

If your ethics prevent plagiarism, there's always the fake I'd-write-more-but-there's-no-space ploy, in which you sign ``Happy Birthday!'' all smushed along the bottom edge, even if you're an early signer.

Still, signing, as pressure-ridden as it is, is not where your troubles end: If you're one of the last to get the card, passing it on becomes another chore.

``You go from person to person looking to hand it off, and everyone's like `I already signed,' or `I didn't know her that well,' '' a co-worker reported.

``Plus, you've got it in that stupid manila folder, like it's some kind of state secret or something.''

If there's one thing harder than signing a card - and there is only one - it's getting one.

``Your whole career is reduced to a little piece of folded paper,'' a businesswoman said.

``How popular were you? Did the wishes spill over to the back and the front of the card, or did everything fit on one page? Do you have eight ``good luck's!'' and that's it?''

I don't know about you, but there are some things I just don't want to find out. I like my job, but even if I didn't I'd stay put. Being miserable eight hours a day is one thing, facing a virtually empty Hallmark card is another.