I realised Abu Dhabi was physically dependant on business cards as I walked around the Tourist Club Area one evening after work. Strolling jovially along the street, dodging gaping holes and ducking across the roads, as is the Abu Dhabi way, in the distance I noticed a couple of men reclining on the side of the street (it was grassed, but an odd location for a nap nonetheless). They weren’t the most fashion-conscious chaps – by which I mean they weren’t wearing shoes.
Yet at the sight of me, one of them leapt up like a Jack in the Box, and hopped over with an outstretched hand. ‘Take my card!’ he cried, imbued with some unfathomable passion. When I didn’t immediately reach out and do as requested, I actually saw something akin to heartbreak in his eyes. Rubbing salt into the wound, I shuffled off sheepishly, a little confused. And then a sense of guilt descended…
But hang on, why would I take his card? I didn’t know who he was or what business he was in, nor had I been presented with any legitimate reason why I should ever want to contact him again.
I also questioned this guy’s priorities: at what point in the UAE’s evolution did acquiring a business card become more important than purchasing a pair of shoes?
That situation might have been extreme, but it’s really no different to the regular exchanges of cardboard I make in Abu Dhabi every day. It sometimes seems trading business cards has replaced the need for polite small talk altogether. While undeniably an invaluable professional tool, I resent the increasing intrusion business cards are making on my social affairs. Within moments of meeting a friend of a friend, the wallet has to come out before we can get to know one another. Strike up a conversation with a stranger in a bar queue and you can expect a card tactlessly declaring their social status artfully slipped between your outstretched dirham bills. I once woke up after a night out with a total of 11 business cards crumpled in my pocket, half of which belong to people I had no recollection of talking to (and that has nothing to do with beverages consumed, I might add).
It’s clearly a UAE thing. In a land of hopes, dreams, wild expectations and big money deals, identities linked directly to job titles is inevitable.
But I guess it’s also a sign of the region’s cosmopolitan vibrancy: with so many cultures and languages competing to be heard, the business card represents a universal platform to be understood, a tool for bridging divides and building relations. Maybe I should have taken Mr Shoeless’s card after all.
Rob Garratt is a Time Out editor. He’s quite proud of his own card with those words printed on it.
