I’m a university student, and I’m currently doing a group project with three others. [Groupmate] and I are looking over what the other two have submitted.

Groupmate: “Well, those two numbskulls really half-a**ed the work.” 

Me: *Irritably* “Tell me something I don’t already know.”

Groupmate: “My middle name is Prosperity.”

I blink.

Me: “Really?”

Groupmate: “Really.”

Me: “You’re not fooling around, right?”

Groupmate: “Nope. I’ve got two names: one in English, one in Chinese. My Chinese one is legally my middle name, and when translated, it means Ascend-To-Prosperity, so yes, Prosperity really is my middle name.”

Me: “Is this common?”

Groupmate: *Shrugs* “Back home in Singapore, yes. For example, my friend [English Name]’s full name is [English Name] [Surname] [Chinese Name]. Most of us follow that format, as well.”

Me: “And [Chinese Name] is her middle name?”

Groupmate: *Wriggles palm* “Legally speaking. Even though it’s behind her surname.”

Me: “That’s weird.”

Groupmate: *Shrugs* “That’s just what happens when you grow up in a place that speaks both English and Chinese.”

Me: “Fair enough, but let’s get back on topic.”

We got back to work, but I was a lot calmer and light-hearted now. 

This basically evolved into our usual working relationship. I’d get angry over something, [Groupmate] would distract me with some interesting trivia, we’d get sidetracked for a bit, and I’d forget my anger, and then, we’d get back to work with a clear head.

I find a new vegetarian restaurant I want to try out, so I place an order online. As part of the process, of course, I have to type in my full name. It’s relevant that I have a slightly unusual name, but it’s still similar to a common name and most people have no trouble with it. Let’s say it’s something like “Kellyn Smythe” instead of the more expected “Ellen Smith.”

I place the order and the restaurant’s website tells me it will take forty-three minutes for my food to be ready, which seems like a suspiciously long time for a salad, but hey, it’s the lunch rush. I stop by the restaurant twenty-five minutes later just to check on the progress, content to wait if my order isn’t ready. I check the shelf for takeout bags and don’t see any with my name.

Worker: “What was your order?”

Me: “Oh, it was an Asian salad, but it’s not supposed to be ready yet, so I don’t mind waiting.”

Worker: “We have it! Look again!”

Me: “I don’t think—”

Worker: “It’s definitely that one! Take it already!”

The bag has a name that’s nothing at all close to mine and is spelled with odd extra letters! It’s like “Chharlinn Ssplrythe.”

Me: “I don’t want to take someone else’s lunch!”

Worker: “It will get bad if you don’t eat it now! Don’t you want it?”

Me: “I really don’t think this is right, but okay, if you insist!”

The food turned out to be exactly what I ordered, even with a customization, so I guess it really was mine all along? Still, I have so many questions! Why was my food ready so early, and yet no one told me about it? And how could they mess up my name so much when I literally TYPED IT IN for them? So much that it didn’t even look like a name you could pronounce anymore? And why was the worker mad at me? At least the meal was delicious!

My mother has been looking for a customized Christmas gift for my step-dad for a while. His name is Mark, which is fairly common, so there are a lot of options. She decides to go for one that isn’t just the name, to make it a little more special.

On Christmas morning, my step-dad unwraps a coffee mug and reads it out. 

Step-Dad: “‘The man, the myth, the legend…’”

My mom smiles wide, happy that the gift arrived on time.

Step-Dad: “‘…Kyle.'”

My mom was devastated that the wrong name was printed on the mug, but the rest of us were dying laughing. The Kyle mug is proudly displayed in our kitchen.

My name is Faith and I am a cashier. I actually have to change my name on my name tag to my nickname due to a couple of customers.

One lady constantly brings me religious pamphlets, but worse is one man who came up to the till and held up my line by praying over me. He then tries to grab my hands!

Me: “If you touch me, I will see you in Hell.”

He didn’t like my response!

I’ve been working with a graphic design company for a few months. Apart from the initial concept I provided, I think I’ve been in touch with them twice: once to approve a draft and again to confirm a revision, both times via email. It’s taken a long time, even with clear initial instructions and a very minor revision, so we are already late against their schedule.

My main contact, Andy, convinces me to go down to their office as they have the first test prints back from the printer. I don’t like taking the afternoon off work, but Andy tells me it will be worth it as they can rush through any changes needed.

Me: “I’m here to meet Andy.”

Receptionist: “Andy?”

Me: “Andy [Last Name].”

Receptionist: “We don’t have anyone who works here by that name, sir.”

Me: “What? How can that be? I don’t have my laptop with me, but look, I have an email on my phone. Look, Andy [Last Name].”

Receptionist: “I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t call someone who doesn’t work here. Maybe try emailing them?”

Andy is always slow to answer emails and always makes an excuse when I ask for a phone number. With no other option, I emailed Andy and hoped they’d see it.

Twenty minutes later, the receptionist told me she didn’t know who else to call — it was a common last name and I guess she had too many to call all of them — and that I should probably leave. 

I wrote an angry email to Andy for wasting my time. Two hours later, I got a one-line apology. Andy is actually Andrea, but everyone knows her as Andy. She admitted that she “probably” should have let the receptionist know.

I got the prints eventually, and they didn’t have the revision we agreed on, so there was another delay.

I found another company to work with after that.