Dude, Where's My Sticker?

As a child, I remember the joy of receiving a sticker on my work. Seeing an A or a 100% written in the upper right-hand corner of the page always made me smile, but when that high grade was accompanied by a sticker, it further solidified a job well done. 

I remember the variety of stickers – from standard colored stars to clever pictures with puns (‘Grape work!’ with a picture of grapes). Some teachers even had scratch and sniff stickers that smelled like berries or bubblegum.

Scratch and sniff stickers were the best

And then one day, stickers just disappeared.

Obviously we were too cool for stickers during our tween and teen years. Our test scores or letter grades continued to appear in the upper right-hand corner of the page, and maybe we’d get the occasional smiley face drawn by an enthusiastic teacher. I don’t recall getting any stickers (or smiley faces) in college. University was far too serious for such frivolity.

But in my first job after graduation, stickers reappeared in my life. I was working for a travel company, and my co-workers and I would enthusiastically collect stickers during various trips around the world. We’d then slap the Aruba or London stickers on our clipboards and Nalgene bottles to show how worldly and cosmopolitan we were. 

Then at age 26, I moved to Wellington, New Zealand and discovered stickers were having a renaissance on the other side of the world. I never saw them used in the workplace, but every Friday there would be a scattering of charity workers along the main roads, armed with plastic buckets and rolls of stickers.

The process was the same – regardless of the charity. You’d give them a donation, and they’d give you a sticker. It didn’t matter if it was a charity trying to cure a disease or save dogs. Every charity had a sticker. And it was an important ritual of a Friday morning to exchange a dollar or two for a sticker – not just to be charitable, but also to communicate to your fellow co-workers and residents that you weren’t a total bastard. People wore their stickers at work – and if you didn’t have one, you stood out.

I haven’t seen as many stickers since then, though the most recent one I received was last November, with my US absentee ballot. Stickers are part of the voting experience, and you don’t miss out even when you vote by mail. 

Check out all these fun stickers congratulating people for voting in the US

And over the last few months, I’ve been seeing articles showcasing various types of vaccine stickers from the US –  as well as photos on social media of people proudly wearing stickers displaying their newly-vaccinated status.

But do adults really care about stickers? 

Yes. Yes they do.

We’ve been programmed (is it just Americans, or is this a global phenomenon?) to associate stickers with good work. And they are a way of communicating something positive about us. We have voted. We didn’t have any cavities. We are good students – or good citizens.

The Centers for Disease Control obviously recognizes the appeal of stickers, as they have various sticker designs available to download for free on their website (in both English and Spanish).

Other US vaccination sites have even offered selfie stations where you can take selfies post-vaccination wearing your ‘I’m vaxxed’ sticker with pride.

Did you take a selfie after getting the vaccine?

And though it feels a bit ridiculous to say this as an adult, I will admit that when I went to receive my Covid vaccine in London, I wondered if there would be stickers (or maybe even lollipops).

After getting my jab, I was given a small card (the size of a business card) with my name and vaccine details written across it. The card was attached to an information pamphlet by a small sticker, about the size of a quarter (or 20 pence coin).

This is the sticker that was affixed on my information pamphlet. Not sure why it has a crown.

But there was no sticker given to me to proudly display on my chest. No lollipop. No selfie station. 

I walked out of the building unable to silently convey my newly-vaccinated status to the people I passed on the street. (Though to be fair, I was still keeping my distance from them anyway).

Of course this is silly and frivolous – and the main point is that I got the vaccine (and I am grateful for that, and will be even more grateful to have my second shot 12 weeks from now). 

But my reaction to the sticker has confirmed what was drilled into me as a child – and reinforced with every US election vote and New Zealand charitable donation I made.

Regardless of how old we are, we all like being told we’ve done a good job. That we’re good.

So if the UK (or other countries) need to entice people to get a Covid vaccine, maybe they’d be wise to invest in some exciting stickers.

The fun illustrations and bold colors will catch attention.

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