Maybe He’s A Jimophobe?

(I am ordering a coffee. The barista has asked for a name to put on the cup. I use my nickname, Jim. I then take my place with the other customers waiting.)

Barista: *after several minutes* “GERM!”

(No one responds.)

Barista: “GERM! J-I-M, GERM!”

(I walk up to him, slightly discombobulated. He pushes the coffee into my hands.)

Barista: “Why the h*** didn’t you answer when I called the first time?”

Me: “I’ve never heard anyone say my name like that.”

Barista: “Well, how am I supposed to know how you say it?!”

Me: “You took my order, though. You heard me say it.”

Barista: “So?”

Me: “And you spelled it right on the cup.”

Barista: “So?!”

Me: “What did I say my name was?”

Barista: “Jim.”

Me: “And somehow, in the space of a few minutes, you forgot how to pronounce it?”

Barista: “It’s not my problem if you have an unpronounceable name.” *turns and works on the next order*

(I would have just ignored it and gotten on with my life, but I’m sure the guy was playing a game with me, as I’ve also used my full first name, to which he shouted, “Janine!” and when I gave him “Bob,” he shouted, “Burp!” I don’t go in there anymore, and the place looks a lot less crowded than it used to.)