Pocket-Sized Interruptions

Tiny details can have a meaningful impact

Midway through clearing out my office, a shoebox slipped off a shelf spilling hundreds of business cards I’d collected over the past decade (I’m sure you have a similar pile: well-meaning but meaningless). I scanned the lot, flipping one card after another, and couldn’t place a single face. Just a pile of 3.5” x 2” rectangles… earnest, informational, and totally forgettable. A box full of missed connections.

Business cards fall flat. They’re a wasted opportunity to do the thing they’re supposed to help you do… connect. You exchange them at conferences or networking events, and almost immediately, they’re forgotten, buried at the bottom of a bag, their details indistinguishable from the rest. Rarely do they jog your memory of the person you met. Neither do they represent who you are or what you do in a meaningful way.

In 2016 when I launched my production house, Madcap Factory (and business cards were still a thing), I knew even the smallest details should reflect the way I work. Play is core to how I think, create, and connect, so my business cards had to do more than pass along my name and email. They needed to invite interaction and make people feel something.

I created four versions of the cards, each with a different pen-and-paper-game on the back: Word Search, Dots, Tic-Tac-Toe, and Hangman (a questionable choice!). The design was simple but memorable. When I handed them out, they worked like tiny icebreakers. At events, I’d invite people to sit and jump into a quick game right then and there. Laughs and memories were shared. People didn’t just take my card and toss it into a pile… they kept it, talked about it, and most importantly, remembered me.

These cards were certainly clever marketing. But more than that, they illustrated the values I built the business around: lighthearted on the surface, but deeply meaningful in impact. The people who received them were delighted and stuck around. Long after the event ended, I’d get messages like, “Hey, I still have your card,” or, “I remember that round of Tic-Tac-Toe with you that day. Let’s work together.”

The games on the back of the cards were an entry point. What really mattered was creating something that stood out in a sea of sameness, a little moment of joy that made someone think, “This person is different.” And that’s exactly what I wanted Madcap Factory to be. Often when we think of the value of novelty, we’re thinking on a grand scale: that summer sailing trip in Corsica (not a trip I personally took, but doesn’t that sound amazing?!), dancing on a rooftop at sunrise with friends you’ve just met, catching a pop-up one-night-only circus performance. But the magic of novelty can be as bite-sized as a 3.5” x 2” business card. Even the tiniest pattern interruption can be memorable.

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I’d like to carry cards again… not as business cards exactly, but as little calling cards. Something tactile to hand off that feels more like an invitation than a contact dump.

Three cheers for analog, IRL interactions.