I work in a call center and frequently speak with elderly people who like to make small talk; some are quite pleasant and others are very rude or very nosy. I am female and have a name that is common for men, like Billy or Bobby, but can also be a girl’s name.

Me: “Thank you for calling [Company]. My name is [My Name]. How can I help you?”

Client: “What’s your name again?!”

I repeat myself.

Client: “You sound very effeminate!”

Me: “Well, I am female.”

Client: “Oh, you must be named after your father!”

Me: *As cheerfully as I can muster* “Maybe! I don’t really know who he is! Now, what questions did you have about your account?”

Client: *Flustered* “Oh! Well, I… uh…” *Click*

Related:
Failed The Name Game, Part 10
Failed The Name Game, Part 9
Failed The Name Game, Part 8
Failed The Name Game, Part 7
Failed The Name Game, Part 6

Me: “Thank you for calling [Company]. This is [My Name]. How may I help you?”

Caller: “Yeah, I’m here to pick up an order.”

Silence.

Me: “Okay, who am I speaking to?”

Caller: “Jeff.”

It’s always a Jeff and we have many clients named Jeff. We have some nice Jeffs and some who are not so nice.

Me: “Jeff who?”

Caller: “Jeff. I ordered some hinges yesterday.”

Me: “Jeff, do you have an account with us?”

Caller: “No, I ordered soft-close hinges.”

Me: “Jeff, what is your last name so I can look up your order to see if it’s ready?”

Caller: “Look, you should know who I am. I called twice yesterday. I spoke to a man. Let me speak to a man.”

Me: “One second, sir.”

This could all have been prevented if the gentleman had introduced himself at the beginning of the phone call. Remember to do that when you call someone on the phone.

Me: “Hi there. What was the name for your order?”

Customer: “Smith.”

I look at my order screen and see two orders where the only name given is Smith. Fortunately, customers also have to give a phone number in case we need to contact them.

Me: “Okay, ma’am, we have two orders for Smith. Can I ask the phone number you gave for the order?”

Customer: “It’s under Smith.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, I know, but I have more than one order for Smith, so if you could give me the phone number you used, I can determine which order is yours.”

Customer: “I don’t know. My daughter put it in under Smith. Just give me my order.”

Me: “Okay, do you know what she ordered? I can look for that, then.”

Customer: “Smith, it’s under Smith. Why is this so difficult for you?!”

Me: “Ma’am, there is more than one person named Smith that ordered tonight. I need either the phone number or at least what was ordered so I know which order is yours. I don’t want to give you the wrong order and then also not have the other customer’s order.”

Customer: “I don’t know the number. Just give me my order.”

Me: “Ma’am, at this point, if you can’t give me any way of knowing which one is yours, I can’t. If you’d like to call your daughter for that, then I can help you. Otherwise, the best I can tell you is to wait for the other Smith order to come in, and then I’ll know which order is yours.”

Customer: “This is stupid. I just want my pizza.”

She walks off dialing her phone. I ring out several customers while she’s standing off to the side talking to, I hope, her daughter on her phone. Eventually, a man comes up and says he’s there for Smith, I explain the two orders, and he chuckles as he gives me his number. I ring him out and give him his food.

Me: “Ma’am, I can ring you out now. I know which one is yours.”

Customer: “You mean I still have to pay after waiting this long?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t tell which one was yours until now.”

She says into the phone that we’re charging her.

Customer: “My husband says we shouldn’t have to pay since you made me wait.”

She paid and then complained to corporate. Thankfully, the area VP called to ask what happened. When we told him, he said there was no way she was getting anything for not knowing what she ordered. Folks, please, at the very least, give a first AND last name on orders so this doesn’t happen.

My name is Katharine; I also go by Kate or Katie. I am seven years old and clever but not bright. It’s the first day of school and we’re in gym, waiting for the teacher to take attendance. He gets to the student before me and then…

Teacher: “Kathy.”

I don’t say anything. I’m just wondering who this Kathy is that wasn’t in any of my other classes. 

Teacher: “Kathy?”

I’m looking around trying to see who I don’t recognize, but I don’t see anyone new.

Teacher: “KATHARINE [MY LAST NAME].”

Me: “Here!”

Teacher: “Why didn’t you answer when I called you?”

Me: *Baffled* “But you didn’t call me!”

The rest of the class “oooh”ed as if I’d pulled off some great insult, but I was just confused. The teacher asked my preference and called me Katie after that.

The cashier at the register I’m at is a pretty woman whom I estimate to have been born in the early 1980s. She has a simple but elegant wedding ring on, and her name tag reads “Sharona.”

That brings two obvious questions to mind, but not wanting to be That Customer and figuring she’s been asked five-hundred times in the past week, I hold my tongue. 

It must be clear what I want to know, though, because as I’m handing over my cash and collecting my bag of groceries, she says quietly:

Sharona: “Yes, they were, and yes, he does.”