Over time, almost everyone who knows me ends up calling me Pete. My family all does, and I'd say a vast majority of friends do too. It's partly laziness and people wanting to save a syllable, partly just the fact that "Hey Pete" is easy to say. I like my name, and I like the nickname of Pete, but I never introduce myself that way because I don't like how "Pete Klein" sounds. It's a little too choppy, so I go by Peter and people will eventually do as they please. Fine by me. (Naturally, Dave the Contrarian purposely introduced me to someone as "Pete Klein" after hearing my thoughts on the subject.)
That brings me to the main meat of today's post: people misunderstanding names. For example, I once wanted to try Pete on to see how it felt. So at a coffee house, I placed my order and when asked for my name, I confidently said "Pete." "Keith?" the barista asked. "No, Peeeet" I said, fully enunciating all three complex sounds in the name. After starting out 0-for-1 as Pete though, I switched back to Peter.
That hasn't been foolproof either. I was at a Jamba Juice, and when asked my name, I truthfully said "Peter." "Your name is Gator?" she asked incredulously. "No, Peter," I said, "but go ahead and leave it as Gator on there, that's fine." I was confused how someone could assume such a tough nickname for me instead of hearing an actual name first. That wasn't the only time either. I had a woman at another Jamba Juice (I blame the blender noise, by the way) ask my name, have me repeat it (which I did slowly and clearly), then have me spell it. I did, but I wasn't sure why she didn't understand me. "Oh, I thought you were saying Geter." Her co-worker chimed in and said she understood me fine, but that made two times that people mistook my P sound for a G, and I didn't even know that was possible.
The king of this form of miscommunication is hands-down my friend Greg. Nice, normal name. It started back when we were little kids and he joined a bowling league I was in. An old coach named Lou came up to him, and I'm going to switch to play-like dialogue to better capture the moment:
The scene is a bowling alley circa the mid 1980s. Two young boys stand center stage discussing the upcoming battle between Hulk Hogan and Andre the Giant, and how Optimus Prime would totally kick either of their asses. Greg, a shy boy with glasses and a new bowling bag in his hand, is nervous to be entering the cut-throat world of competitive bowling but tries to appear brave and seasoned. Peter, exuding a masculinity not often seen in boys his age, stands by his friend, hoping some of his immense internal fortitude will be mystically transferred to his lifelong friend.
Lou: (enters stage left) Hello there. Say, what's your name, little feller?
Greg: (as bravely as possible) Greg.
Lou: Hi Gray, I'm Lou, nice to meet you.
Greg: (bolder yet) No, it's Greg.
Lou: Sorry, Rick, sometimes my hearing's not so good.
Peter then steps in with a boyish smile to soften his rugged good looks to clear up the confusion. He's saved the day, and the twinkle in his eye gives the audience the impression that he knows this won't be the last time the world calls upon his unlikely combination of steady-handed leadership and bedside manner. (Curtain)
Naturally, I've called Greg "Gray Rick" from time to time ever since that magical moment, and it's probably been twenty years now. Damn. In any case, that was the first of many such instances for Greg.
Of course he's gotten "Craig" from people, but that's understandable. I remember being out to dinner once and running into someone I knew. Everyone at the table introduced themselves, and the young lady repeated almost every name back correctly. "Jon, Scott, Dave, Rob, and Jack. I think I got it." "Almost, it's Greg," Greg said. "Oh, I thought you said 'Jack'," she replied. After she walked away, Greg leaned in and very seriously said, "Guys, please be honest with me. Do I have some speech impediment that I don't know about?" We told him that he didn't, and he almost seemed upset because that would've at least been an answer for him.
A couple of years ago, Greg called me to tell me that it happened again. He went to Fatburger with some of his law school friends, and they all placed their orders and gave their names. Time passed, and one by one everyone's name was called to retrieve their food...everyone except Greg, that is. He waited, thinking maybe his was just taking longer for some reason, then finally went up to the counter to see how much longer it would be. "What's you name?" the attendant asked. He told her, and she went to look for his order. She went over to one that had been sitting there for a while, checked the receipt, made a confused face, and then brought the tray over to him. "I guess this one is yours," she said as she pushed it toward him. He looked at the receipt, and where it should have read "Greg" was the made-up name "Rek." Rek!
It's gotten to the point that Greg's been toying with ideas for nicknames. Since the actor Topher Grace became popular, it's opened a new door. His name is Christopher, but he doesn't shorten it to Chris but rather Topher. Cool idea, but it takes the right kind of name to do it. Nifer wouldn't really work for Jennifer, but something like Andra for Alexandra possibly could. Would Ory work for Greg? Kinda, and it's cool sounding (like 'Quin for Juaquin), but it would still be a name that people don't immediately get.
So basically, he's screwed. Should he just wear a nametag around? I don't typically take pleasure in other people's problems, but this has been a comedic goldmine for our group of friends for so long that I'd almost hate to see it go. At the very least, it's provided us with the possibility of a Geter and Rek business together somewhere down the line.
That brings me to the main meat of today's post: people misunderstanding names. For example, I once wanted to try Pete on to see how it felt. So at a coffee house, I placed my order and when asked for my name, I confidently said "Pete." "Keith?" the barista asked. "No, Peeeet" I said, fully enunciating all three complex sounds in the name. After starting out 0-for-1 as Pete though, I switched back to Peter.
That hasn't been foolproof either. I was at a Jamba Juice, and when asked my name, I truthfully said "Peter." "Your name is Gator?" she asked incredulously. "No, Peter," I said, "but go ahead and leave it as Gator on there, that's fine." I was confused how someone could assume such a tough nickname for me instead of hearing an actual name first. That wasn't the only time either. I had a woman at another Jamba Juice (I blame the blender noise, by the way) ask my name, have me repeat it (which I did slowly and clearly), then have me spell it. I did, but I wasn't sure why she didn't understand me. "Oh, I thought you were saying Geter." Her co-worker chimed in and said she understood me fine, but that made two times that people mistook my P sound for a G, and I didn't even know that was possible.
The king of this form of miscommunication is hands-down my friend Greg. Nice, normal name. It started back when we were little kids and he joined a bowling league I was in. An old coach named Lou came up to him, and I'm going to switch to play-like dialogue to better capture the moment:
The scene is a bowling alley circa the mid 1980s. Two young boys stand center stage discussing the upcoming battle between Hulk Hogan and Andre the Giant, and how Optimus Prime would totally kick either of their asses. Greg, a shy boy with glasses and a new bowling bag in his hand, is nervous to be entering the cut-throat world of competitive bowling but tries to appear brave and seasoned. Peter, exuding a masculinity not often seen in boys his age, stands by his friend, hoping some of his immense internal fortitude will be mystically transferred to his lifelong friend.
Lou: (enters stage left) Hello there. Say, what's your name, little feller?
Greg: (as bravely as possible) Greg.
Lou: Hi Gray, I'm Lou, nice to meet you.
Greg: (bolder yet) No, it's Greg.
Lou: Sorry, Rick, sometimes my hearing's not so good.
Peter then steps in with a boyish smile to soften his rugged good looks to clear up the confusion. He's saved the day, and the twinkle in his eye gives the audience the impression that he knows this won't be the last time the world calls upon his unlikely combination of steady-handed leadership and bedside manner. (Curtain)
Naturally, I've called Greg "Gray Rick" from time to time ever since that magical moment, and it's probably been twenty years now. Damn. In any case, that was the first of many such instances for Greg.
Of course he's gotten "Craig" from people, but that's understandable. I remember being out to dinner once and running into someone I knew. Everyone at the table introduced themselves, and the young lady repeated almost every name back correctly. "Jon, Scott, Dave, Rob, and Jack. I think I got it." "Almost, it's Greg," Greg said. "Oh, I thought you said 'Jack'," she replied. After she walked away, Greg leaned in and very seriously said, "Guys, please be honest with me. Do I have some speech impediment that I don't know about?" We told him that he didn't, and he almost seemed upset because that would've at least been an answer for him.
A couple of years ago, Greg called me to tell me that it happened again. He went to Fatburger with some of his law school friends, and they all placed their orders and gave their names. Time passed, and one by one everyone's name was called to retrieve their food...everyone except Greg, that is. He waited, thinking maybe his was just taking longer for some reason, then finally went up to the counter to see how much longer it would be. "What's you name?" the attendant asked. He told her, and she went to look for his order. She went over to one that had been sitting there for a while, checked the receipt, made a confused face, and then brought the tray over to him. "I guess this one is yours," she said as she pushed it toward him. He looked at the receipt, and where it should have read "Greg" was the made-up name "Rek." Rek!
It's gotten to the point that Greg's been toying with ideas for nicknames. Since the actor Topher Grace became popular, it's opened a new door. His name is Christopher, but he doesn't shorten it to Chris but rather Topher. Cool idea, but it takes the right kind of name to do it. Nifer wouldn't really work for Jennifer, but something like Andra for Alexandra possibly could. Would Ory work for Greg? Kinda, and it's cool sounding (like 'Quin for Juaquin), but it would still be a name that people don't immediately get.
So basically, he's screwed. Should he just wear a nametag around? I don't typically take pleasure in other people's problems, but this has been a comedic goldmine for our group of friends for so long that I'd almost hate to see it go. At the very least, it's provided us with the possibility of a Geter and Rek business together somewhere down the line.
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