Spelling Smith
Wherein Our
Heroine Considers Identity.
When I got married, I did the
old-fashioned thing. I changed my name. I didn't do it for any parochial,
patriarchal reason, I did it out of a desire for simplicity. "Losing my
identity" didn't concern me, as I never felt my identity was bound up in a label
given to me more or less at random. There were slight twinges of concern over
the change, mostly relating to my professional life. It was worrying that
professional colleagues and clients might get confused, but I had seen other
women make the switch with success.
What made the alteration
truly attractive was not having to go through this silly peroration ever again:
"ESS-asinSam-AY-DUBLEYEW-DEE-asinDavid-OH-EN-asinNancy." Without that verbal
foray into the Ministry of Silly Walks, my perfectly phonetic surname (Sawdon)
would end up mutated into, at best, Sodden, Sowden, or Swanson. At worst, it
would be Fawdem. Smith! Brief, simple, everyone knows a Smith, everyone can
spell it. I would never have to spell my last name again, and I got to keep my
initials. It seemed perfect. But I hadn't counted on a fact of human nature.
People don't
listen.
Everyone falls victim
to the error of not quite paying attention from time to time, and when it
happens, it can be embarrassing. It becomes even more embarrassing, however,
when someone tries to brazen it out. I call, they answer. I introduce myself,
they inform me that whomever I want is out of the office. May they take a
message? Certainly. Could you spell your name for me,
please?
Pause.
Smith?
Oh!
[Nervous laughter] Sorry!
Gotcha. I've caught that
person not listening. They know it, I know it, we just don't mention it. I
wonder just how many times people weren't listening when I was asked to spell
Sawdon. I had to spell my name for just about every single person I ever met
for the better part of my life up until last year, so another request to spell
my name wasn't remarkable then.
The real issue is not that I
begrudge giving anyone those five letters - I just wonder what else they haven't
paid attention to. I know I'll really be in trouble the day I am on the other
end of this conversation:
911,
what is your emergency?.... Okay.... We'll get right out there..... Could you
spell your name for me,
please?
On that day, I'll
expect a fire truck for a broken arm.
Posted: Monday - March 08, 2004 at 06:40 AM
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