Friday, 16 April 2010

What's In A Name

If there’s one bug bear that drives me nuts apart from….well let’s not go into the others as the list is way too long…’s people who spell my name wrong. Grr…I am one of those lucky people with short name, which is so simple my friends’ infants can remember how to spell it.

Yet time and time again on emails and on my post at home, I get variations on its spelling that muse me. I thought I was the only crazy with this ‘spell my name right or else affliction”, until my conversation with V today.

V is one of my current favorites (I am favourite fickle!) at work. She’s a smart-witted, bookish girl next door type, complete with horned rimmed specs and lovely smile; who occasionally exhibits the all out grumpiness of a senior citizen whose domino night has been cancelled.

As one of the visiting IT team strolled by enroute to the coffee machine she exclaimed.

“I can’t stand him”

“Why” I said surprised at the venom in her voice. “He didn’t look like public enemy number one to me”.

“He’s the one I was telling you about. He always, always spells my name wrong”. I nodded empathetically.

“My name’s on my email, spelt correctly, he must email me about 2 or 3 times a week and every time he spells it wrong or calls me my full name – only my Mum does that when she’s annoyed with me”.

“And let me guess because he keeps messing up your name he is now in your bad books”.

“You said it. BB It really, really bugs me!”

“Why don’t you have it out with him. You know sit him down and gently tell him, he’s a dead man if he spells it wrong again. Throw in a withdrawal of your labour and emergency help and hey presto!”

“That's a brilliant idea, strike action I like that”, she said turning tail and marching back towards her desk and the poor IT guy.

London may be covered in a cloud of volcanic ash shutting down our airspace, like in some big budget disaster movie, but nothing is quite so scary as a woman on the warpath.

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