Security Badges: The Latest In Stylish Clip-Ons

Badges? We ain’t got no badges. I don’t have to show you any stinkin’ badges.

I beg to differ, Mr. Angry Bandito Man. It seems like almost all of us have badges these days. Badges are flapping from lapels all over town. Obviously, more and more of us do have to show somebody our badges, especially our stinkin’ ones.

I speak of the security badge, one of the scourges of ‘90s life.

A decade or two ago, hardly anybody wore security badges except those in sensitive defense-oriented businesses, such as Boeing. I am particularly knowledgable about Boeing badges, because I was nearly run out of the Greater Puget Sound Metro Area for making fun of them.

All I said was that 90 percent of all Boeing employees wear their badges to bed. That’s not so bad, is it? I didn’t say which part of their anatomy they clipped them to or anything. Still, a number of Boeing engineers took offense and wrote letters angrily refuting this claim.

“We demand a retraction,” the letters would say. “The actual numbers are nowhere near 90 percent.”

They also didn’t appreciate me dredging up the (true) story about the peace protesters in the early ‘80s who illegally entered a Boeing facility. These protesters walked up to the security gate, flashed their homemade badges, some of which had Mickey Mouse pasted on in place of a picture, and the guards cheerfully and distractedly waved them on through. The protesters walked right up to the production line and proceeded to drape themselves over the cruise missiles in a highly theatrical manner. (Security was beefed up as a result of this incident. From then on, all visitors with Mickey Mouse badges were questioned quite sternly before being waved through.)

Now, more than 10 years later, I feel awful about teasing Boeing people about badges. That’s because I have a security badge and I realize the truth: There’s nothing funny about it.

First of all, where are you supposed to wear your badge? This is one of the key fashion dilemmas of the ‘90s. Many people clip it attractively to their outfits, which automatically makes them look as if they work for the Department of Corrections. Others attach the badge to a cord and opt for the around-the-neck look, which makes them look as if they are roadies at a rock concert.

I, personally, keep mine in my pocket, which guarantees that it will end up in the laundry about three times a month.

Because of that, I can go weeks at a time without my badge. This is not as serious as you might think; I am such a well-known figure at my office that the guards generally let me through after only a brief body-cavity search.

The real problem comes when I attempt to use the stairwell instead of the elevator. Our security system is cleverly designed so that a person can get into the stairwell without a badge, but can’t get out of it.

I have become trapped on numerous occasions. I have walked up to my floor, only to discover that my badge is in the laundry. I forlornly pound on the door, hoping that a passerby will set me free before nightfall. Otherwise, I am forced to make bivouac.

And, finally, we have the badge ID photo. Never does a badge photo bear the slightest resemblance to the real person, because those badge cameras are actually big copy machines that churn out nothing but photos of Jack Nicholson in “The Shining.” (Some more recent models churn out pictures of Chris Farley pretending to be Jack Nicholson in “The Shining.”)

How can I put this? My security badge photo makes my driver’s license photo look like something by Richard Avedon.

By the way, I try to anticipate reader questions in advance, so here are the answers: (1) Yes, I wear mine to bed. (2) The earlobe.

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The following fields overflowed: CREDIT = Jim Kershner The Spokesman-Review