and Betty, when you call me…

Many studies have shown that hearing your own first name sparks brain activity that improves perception, attention, and memory. Studies also show that I know I should remember your name by now… but it’s just not coming to me.

What I’m saying is, I’m a big fan of nametags.

But beyond helping with my terrible memory for names, these 2 1/3" x 3 3/8" self-adhering miracles can provide so much more than just identification.

A stack of nametags and just a little creativity can break ice, spur deep conversation, provide instant team building, and generally serve as a powerful invitation to connect. The funny thing is, even when used poorly, they can bring people together.

I recently went to a lecture series that has social connection as a core value. When I checked in, the person with the registration list filled out my nametag — and everyone else’s — before handing it to me. Ironically, the nametag scribe had terrible handwriting. Not slightly messy. Spectacularly undecipherable.

Our collective struggle to read each other’s names became its own icebreaker.

“Does that say Craig?”
“No, Jeremy!”

Many years ago, I hosted a party at my house. It was a fairly big party and different friends from different circles were coming. Someone who I had never met before — a plus one of a friend — arrived carrying a stack of nametags and a marker. Initially, I thought this was a smart, if slightly aggressive, power move. Rather than putting the nametags out for people to write their own names, he asked people their names when they arrived and issued them their badge personally.

It wasn’t long before it became clear that he gave everyone the same moniker of either “Bob” or “Ellen” regardless of what you told him your name was.

I’ve seen few party icebreakers that were so simple and so effective. The rest of the night, everyone started laughingly addressing each other:

“Hey Ellen, how’s Bob doing?”
“Good Bob, he’s over there with Bob. How are you, Bob?”

Perhaps some of us ran it into the ground, but that was close to 30 years ago and I still think about how clever — and simple — that was.

Beyond identity, nametags can also be an invitation. I recently attended an event where the nametag had the standard “Hello my name is…” but also included another line at the bottom:

Ask me about…

Such a small shift, but it completely changed the energy in the room. Instead of forcing people to invent small talk from scratch, the nametag itself provided a doorway.

Nametags can easily be used at events where everyone already knows each other’s name — or even if they don’t. Instead of (or in addition to) writing your name, guests can answer a simple prompt:

Secret talent.
First celebrity crush.
Voted most likely to…
Don’t get me started about…

Instant conversation starter.

If you want to take the idea of making connections a step further, you can give people puzzle pieces and charge them with finding where they connect. For example, everyone gets a name — but not their own. Let’s say I get Fred. Then “Fred” tries to find as many connections as possible. I run into Betty, who just connected with Veronica — boom, connection. Wait, there’s Barney. We’re connected. And hey, that’s Ginger. When she’s done talking to Mary Ann, we can connect too.

Or maybe it’s ingredients instead of names. I’m a tomato. I can be in a BLT if I find lettuce and bacon, or maybe cheese and pepperoni are here somewhere, or hey, there’s a salad gathering by the bar.

Maybe that’s the real magic of name tags.

At their most basic, they answer the question:

“Who are you?”

But with just a little creativity, they can start answering a much more interesting question:

“How do we connect?”

The best gatherings, communities, and public spaces do the same thing. They don’t just identify who belongs there. They create low-risk ways for strangers to interact, laugh, collaborate, and discover shared ground.

All from a little 2 1/3" x 3 3/8" adhesive rectangle.

And if I forget your actual name five minutes after meeting you, I apologize in advance.

But if I call you Ellen, at least now you’ll know why.