The Power Of The Yellow Card

Feb 28, 2012 by winjaw

Yellow is a color that, at times, gets a bad rap.

Some will call it soothing or cheery. Those types like magazines with the words “decor,” “ambiance” and “chakra” in the headlines.

Others see it as cowardly. Yosemite Sam calling out some “yellow-belly” dang dern chicken. And it’s a  sign of damn the torpedos;  Americans see yellow, punch the accelerator.

It’s also used as a caution, or, in simpler terms, a “no-no,” in sports. In the rest of the world, the No. 1 sport is soccer, or as they call it, football. Why they call it football when all it involves is feet and a ball is beyond me. It’s confusing to Americans, who know that real football has very little to do with feet other than running.

An infraction in soccer by a player will result in them getting a yellow card from the referee. This in turn, depending upon where one lives, leads to other actions. In France, they will cry; in England, they will drink more and stampede; in the Middle East, it’s a beheading; and in South America, it’s a car bomb. But let’s stay away from stereotypes.

Here in our hometown, we are not immune to the yellow card. It comes in the mail.

It is quite flimsy – a small 4×6 postcard.

It is one of the most powerful pieces of paper I know of.

It has the power to stop the SONS of Thunder dead in their tracks. And that, well, says a lot  if you know the SONS.

The scene goes like this: I walk in the door with the mail. On top, there is a yellow card. And three pairs of eyes light up, stare at the card and then stare at me. And I call out a name.

And there is a big war whoop from the SON whose name is called. And there’s a drop of the head from the others. The recipient of said card will gloat for hours. Those rejected will mope.

The card is from Championship Martial Arts, the karate school the SONS attend. And no, I don’t mind giving a plug. And that’s because the postcard is from an instructor who has taken the time to handwrite a sentence or two. In a nutshell, it’s an “atta-boy;” a “way to go.” And it’s not generic, but specifically addresses something – improvement on a kick; learning a new block, something.

The SONS keep every one of those cards. They are pinned on a corkboard in their rooms. I’m proud to say we have a lot of cards.
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It is one of the most powerful pieces of paper I know of.

A simple postcard, handwritten. Mentally, it is as powerful as learning to break a cinder block. From a customer service standpoint, it is pure brilliance.

A few simple words. An acknowledgement, by, let’s face it, a business, of a job well done to a customer.

It cost pennies. It cost a little time. It took a little thought. But it means the world to the SONS. And it impresses the heck out of yours truly footing the bill.

The irony, (although if it is ironic you should be able to write it in such a way that you don’t have to point out the irony, which in itself is ironic) is that the postcard comes from a karate school.

The power is in words – not round kicks or blows or breaking pieces of wood. Just words.

The power of the yellow card.

Take time, take some thought. Go write someone a note.