Awkward (yet unfamiliarly comfortable)

If you know me or work with me you know that email and texting are my preferred communication tethers. 90% chance if we do talk on the phone it will be by cell phone as I'm never, ever at the small round table (a.k.a. desk) in my. Voice mail? Hah. My inability to regularly check, let alone reply to voice mail messages is legendarily rude. Twitter? Facebook? Don't be stupid. Text or email me.

And them Samuel J. Lopez came into my life. I bought a new suit from Sam at Nordstrom some months ago. It was fine, great service, great communication as expected blah blah blah. But the awkward part came later when Sam sent me a handwritten thank you note and his business card. Again please ... h-a-n-d-w-r-i-t-t-e-n thank you note (printed on embossed paper, metallic ink and real ball point pen on the inside). The business card was also impressive. No digitally quick-printed crappy temporary card but a foil stamped legit calling card with rounded corners.

I scanned the thank you note, then went to add the card to my binder-clipped stack of to-be-entered-into-my-address-book (maybe) cards when to my horror, I saw there was no email address. Only a phone number. A single phone number with Sam's extension. I paused, "what the hell am I going to do with this?" Bottleneck in my day.

I knew Sam had entered my email address into Nordstrom's CRM system, evidenced by the weekly ads in my inbox. But Sam himself has only communicated old school. Once by phone (to follow up two months later to see how the suit was fitting and if I needed any additional complimentary alterations) and twice by snail mail (aforementioned thank you card and a hand written invitation to a private rack sale).

I kept the business card. I don't plan on calling Sam but after the initial shock of the card's lack of email address, Twitter logo, Facebook logo, LinkedIn logo et al, it eventually gave me sense of calm and put me in control of this seemingly unimportant customer service relationship. Sam hasn't added a subconscious straw to my neurotic camel's back with the feeling he will ever email me something I don't want. The genuine nature of the card's contents doesn't carry any urgency and will never make me feel like I have to DO something.

As marketers, we strive to create these exact feelings and we desperately try to create similar interactions with every touchpoint. And how many people do you know that are secure enough not to tip the design balance of their business cards by junking it up with every keeping-up-with-Jones form of contact available in today's pay attention to me business environment?

Sam knows he doesn't have to do this. How refreshingly awkward.