What's in a Card?

The other day, at the store, a guy gave me his business card. He owns a management company, and he just offered it to me without my asking or anything. So, I figured, what the hell, I'll hang on to it. You never know...I do have a couple of screenplays gathering dust in my closet.

There's one thing about this card that's just not quite right, though. I looked the guy up on the Internet, and it does seem like he's legit. I found a bunch of actors and writers who list him as their representation, so it would certainly appear that he's on the up-and-up. But, like I said, this business card is kind of fishy.

The front of the card is just his company's logo (which is, by the way, the guy's own last name). On the back is all of his personal information, with the management company's name in block letters at the top.

But that masthead on the back of the card? It's totally crooked. It doesn't line up with the actual edge of the card at all. So it's likely a card he printed out from some sort of desktop computer, and not a card that has been mass produced at Kinkos or some more fancypants business card supplies company.

What kind of big-time Hollywood manager prints out his own business cards? Can you imagine what Patrick Bateman would have to say if someone showed up with a homemade business card the next time he took a work lunch at Dorcia?

But maybe it's possible the guy is so busy and so important, he doesn't even care what his business cards look like. The top guys in entertainment might not even have business cards at all. If you don't know who they are just by looking at them, you're not important enough for them to care about. Maybe this is actually a sign that the guy is a major player, and I'd be a fool not to give him all due respect.

In fact, now that I think about it, the people who are always anxious to give you their business card are generally phonies, imposters and hangers-on. I'm reminded for some reason of a girl named Anastasia I knew vaguely, once upon a time, in my UCLA days.

Well, she wasn't really named Anastasia. She was named Stacy, I think, or something like that. But she went by Anastasia. Possibly because it sounded better. Or maybe because she was kind of messed up in the head.

Anyway, I saw her a few years back at a Westwood bar, and she gave me this business card. At the top was her name - Anastasia. No last name as I recall, but it has been a few years and I had drank a few beers, so it could have been Anastasia Smith or Anastasia Jones or something like that and I've just forgotten.

Below that, there was a little Clip Art image of a camera and a film strip and below that, simply the words "Film Maker."

I've always remembered this because it strikes me as hilariously sad. Was that business card designed to fool me, or to fool Anastasia? Certainly she can't have felt that too many people would actively buy into this myth, that she was a professional filmmaker in need of business cards. And yet, merely by making up the cards and handing them out, don't you confer upon yourself some hint of professionalism right there? I mean, what does separate the filmmakers from the non-filmmakers?

Oh, right! Getting paid to actually make a film! I almost forgot there for a second.

So, I'll probably send this guy a copy of my script anyway. Because what do I have to lose? He'll either throw it away or he'll read it, realize its sheer genius, and cut me a check for $47 million. And that wouldn't be too bad.