A Cocaine Bag, a Business Card, and One Big ‘F*ck You’ to the Norms
Terri Mitchell’s College Antics That Took a Shot at Conformity and Ended Up as a Design Staple... Even If It Was Only in a Tiny Briefcase
By Fish Fishburn
The one who couldn’t resist finding out just how far a cocaine bag business card could really go.
The Moment That Changed Everything
It was 8am. A dreadful Monday morning, and I was half-dead in Consumer Analysis... hungover, watching the clock tick incessantly slow toward freedom. My professor was droning on, but just as I was about to check out entirely, she put something insane on the screen.
A business card—disguised as a tiny cocaine bag.
No one else in the class seemed to care, but I was utterly enamored, confused, and intrigued. What was this? Why would someone make this? It was a question I couldn’t shake, no matter how badly I just wanted to read ‘Shogun’ by James Clavell and forget about the lecture. I had to get to the bottom of this little baggie (no pun intended).
The card had a website printed on it, and right there in class, I fired up my obscene gaming laptop, its obnoxious fans roaring to life. The website still existed. It was bizarre, full of attitude and personality, a perfect match for the cocaine-baggie card. The person behind it? Terri Beth Mitchell, a creative director with a streak of rebellion that could knock down a brick wall.
So, naturally, I found her contact form and typed out a half-coherent message asking “What the hell is this thing?” I pressed send before I even realized what I was doing. I didn’t think I’d hear back. But the question stayed in the back of my mind, gnawing at me.
Pictured: The image presented in my lecture
c/o Kristine Ehrich
Who Is Terri Mitchell?
A few days later, I got a reply.
Terri told me she was just as shocked as I was that her cocaine bag business card had made it into a lecture in 2024. She didn’t just tell me the story behind it, she gave me a glimpse into a life spent pushing boundaries for the fun of it.
At 21, Terri wasn’t exactly the art-school rebel I’d imagined. She was a programmer in the Air Force. A move that was, in itself, a rebellion. “Everyone told me I was an artist,” she said, “so of course I went in the opposite direction.”
Even in the military, she couldn’t help but stir things up. She told me about getting in trouble for saying “Yes, sir” with too much sarcasm and hiding in bushes to avoid being caught without her required hat. It wasn’t rebellion for rebellion’s sake. She was: someone who found joy in bending the rules until they broke.
Pictured: Terri, c/o VoyageSTL
How the Cocaine Bag Card Was Born
The idea for the cocaine bag business card didn’t come during some wild party. It hit Terri in the middle of a mundane stroll through Hobby Lobby. She spotted a pack of tiny, resealable bags meant for jewelry beads and thought, “These are exactly the size of a business card.”
And just like that, the idea was born. The bag itself became the card—complete with powdered sugar (probably) and Terri’s name scrawled across the front.
She didn’t make these cards to get hired. In fact, they were the exact opposite of a typical business card. “People follow rules that don’t even exist,” she told me. “Why hand someone a boring rectangle with your name on it when you could hand them a fake bag of cocaine?” She stuffed a bunch of the baggies into a tiny briefcase for good measure. The ridiculousness was the whole point.
Terri's brainstorming notes for the card
c/o Terri Mitchell
Where Rules Fell Flat… Ideas Took Flight
It wasn’t long before Terri’s professors caught wind of the cards, and they weren’t amused. One of them had a conversation with her and said, “You need to knock it off if you ever want to be taken seriously.”
Terri, being Terri, wasn’t phased a bit, thinking to herself, “I don’t want to be taken seriously by someone who doesn’t get it.” The whole point was to mock the idea that creativity needed to be cookie cut, in line, or respectable. If it made people uncomfortable, it affirmed that she was on the right track.
The reaction from her friends and colleagues was much more expected. “We thought it was hilarious,” Terri told me. One friend even handed a baggie to a recruiter at a college fair just to see his face. “He didn’t get it, obviously,” she said, “but that was the point.”
Pictured: A reflection from Terri's professor 18 years later via LinkedIn
The Legacy of Chaos and Creativity
Looking back, Terri doesn’t regret a thing. If anything, she’s proud of those cards. “They were a joke, sure,” she said, “but they were also a good idea. I trusted my instincts—and that’s something I still do.”
The cards taught her that novelty and provocation could open doors in ways that conformity never could. Even in interviews, the baggie cards became instant ice-breakers. “People just like things that are silly,” she explained. “Little fake cocaine bags aren’t offensive—they’re almost cute.”
Pictured: Terri's work c/o Kaden Quinn, Greenway Magazine
What It Means to Take Creative Risks Today
Terri’s story infatuated me. Not just because I found it comedic, but because it’s a perfect example of what my intentions are with everything that I do. It’s about breaking norms, bending what is allowed, and creating something introspective.
As Terri put it, “If you have the freedom to make literally anything for your portfolio, why would you choose to make something boring?” That question hit me hard. Creativity isn’t about following what anyone thinks is cool or impressing the suits. It’s about pushing limits, taking risks, and trusting that the scariest ideas are the ones worth pursuing, utilizing that fear as fuel.
A few of Terri's works
c/o Kaden Quinn, Greenway magazine
Final Thoughts: A Lesson in... Rebellion?
The cocaine bag business card was a creative grenade tossed into a room full of expectations. It’s the kind of bold, emphatic reminder that the best ideas don’t come from the idea that will be well-received by the suits.