Why Can't Anybody Get My Name Right?
I don't know why this is, but people seem to have the hardest time picking up my name when I say it. I generally speak clearly, and I don't have problems with people not understanding other things I say, just my name.
I stopped in at a restaurant this afternoon to get some takeout lunch, and it was a place where the food takes a little bit of time to prepare, so they asked for my name. "Doug," I replied. The cashier squinted a bit and asked again. "Doug," I repeated, and spelled it--D-O-U-G--just for good measure. Something happened behind him and he was distracted for about ten seconds, but then he turned back to me. "Ted, was it?" I almost just left it at that--there weren't that many people in the restaurant, and I figured that if there was another Ted, it was highly unlikely he was ordering the same food as me, so I'd be able to get my order. But for whatever reason, I corrected him. "No, it's Doug." "Oh, Don," he nodded. I nodded back and went to sit down.
At least he didn't think my name was Todd. That's the most common wrong name I get. Don't ask me why, because the beginning and ending consonant sounds are different than in Doug, and te vowel in the middle is different, as well, but that's what people hear. It used to particularly rankle me because my girlfriend in grad school used to flit between me and a guy named Todd (maybe she heard the names wrong and thought we were the same guy), and for a few years after that, I'd always see his face when my name was misheard. That hasn't bothered me for years, but come on, I still want to use my own name.
posted by Doug @ 11:57 PM
3 comments
3 Comments:
I've been called "Joe" more times than I can count. As a change of pace, I was once given a nameplate at a place I worked that identified me as "Jeff Irono".
And I can't tell you how many times the last name's been mangled. "Tronn" being my personal favorite, because I enjoy riding my light cycle around on a giant grid.
If it's any comfort, I don't think this has anything to do with you or your name. I think we can safely attribute it to the fact that there are just a lot of semi-conscious people out there (though if you watch Street Smarts, you already know that). Witness the following exchange between myself and a counter worker at a mall food court here in Chicago:
“I’d like a Pepsi.”
“Pepsi?”
“Pepsi.”
“Did you say root beer?”
“No, Pepsi.”
That's it, word for word.
(Yes, I'm quoting from my own blog)
Roy, I think what Chuck said is true. It's not you. It's them. I don't often get that with my given name (my nickname was often mispronounced in my college days - often adding a consonant before the vowel), but I did have one memorable occasion. It was the hybrid ChicagoCon/WizardWorld, and I met a person I'd known from online (someone from your blogroll, between Dorkin and Spurgeon...). Unfortunately, I must have left a bad impression, because everytime she saw me that weekend she called me, "Randy."
That wasn't so odd, since Randy Lander was also at the Con that year. Not so, odd, except that I look nothing like him. (Of course, that was years ago, and I'm sure neither of them remembers me at all now. Who knows what they'd call me.)
I have to admit I've been guilty of a similar problem. Many years ago, I was working for a data processing concern whose primary business was financial aid forms. I was working on a pilot program, in which people would fax us information, we'd run it through a program and fax something back. One of the key pieces they sent was their address. One day, I received one, processed it and sent it back. Soon, they resent it, saying something was incorrect. I re-processed the form, re-sent. Still no good. They called the department and spoke to my boss, claiming there was some problem. My boss came over and brought me into the loop. She asked what the adress was. I replied, "1234 Mulligan Avenue."
She looked at me, then at the form. She asked again, and handed me the form. I looked at the form, and said, "1234 Mulligan Avenue."
She then said, look again. I was confused and looked again. It didn't say "Mulligan." It said, "Milwaukee." She thought the look on my face was pretty funny.
I've no answer why, Darwin. Fatigue? A lack of focus?
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