At my workplace, our email addresses are automatically generated by using the first three letters of one’s last name, followed by first two letters of the first name.

I have a coworker named Edward Sexton. His email is sex.ed@(business).com. The company refuses to allow him to change it.

(I’m working a few hours into my shift when a man comes up and notices my name.)

Customer: “Meghan? That’s an Irish name. Was it always your name?”

Me: “No, sir, my name was originally Megatron.”

Customer: *completely serious* “Really? That must have been hard growing up, with your siblings and friends teasing you.”

(My brother, who works as a bagger in the store, walks by.)

Me: “I don’t know. Hey, [Brother]! This man wants to know if it was hard for me growing up with you teasing me because of my name being Megatron.

Brother: “We teased her all the time.”

Customer: “Huh, I feel kind of bad for you.”

Me: “Sir, my name has always been Meghan. I was kidding. The Megatron thing was a joke from Family Guy.”

Customer: “Oh. Well I heard something about the Irish calling their daughters ‘Meeghan’ from birth to age 16. Then they are called Meghan as a coming of age thing.”

Me: “Well, sir, I wouldn’t know. I’m mostly French-Canadian and I don’t think my family ever had that in mind. Have a good day.”

(He walked out, still looking very confused.)

(During my first years of high school, I am in a very large class where several students have the same first name. For instance, there were two Lauras, two Lisas, several other name-pairs, and three boys that shared the same first name. Understandably, teachers get confused a lot, and the following situation occurred more than once when a teacher hands back graded work:)

Teacher: “[Girl’s Name].”

Class: *as one* “Which one?”

Teacher: “[Last Name #1]. [Boy’s Name].”

Class: “Which one?”

Teacher: “[Last Name #2].” *a few other names without problems* “[Same Boy’s Name].”

Class: “Which one?”

Teacher: “Well, the other one.”

Class: “Which one? There’s three of ’em.”

Teacher: “Oh, for Pete’s sake, [Last Name #3]!”

(A few days after Christmas, I come down with a flu bug that is going around, so I go to the after-hours clinic in our local city. When we arrive, there is at least a two-hour wait, so I sit patiently waiting my turn. About an hour in, one of the nurses comes out, and the following occurs:)

Nurse: “[Woman]?”

(She looks around the waiting room, and then into the hallway, calling her name a few times, then back into the office. Ten minutes later, after three other patients have gone back.)

Nurse: “[Woman]?”

(She looks around again in the waiting room and into the hallway, obviously getting frustrated, then back into the office. Ten more minutes pass, and more patients are escorted into the office. About this time, a very nicely dressed woman steps up to the nurse’s station asking how much longer of a wait she will have. The nurse behind the desk is looking at the list when another nurse comes out calling another patient’s name, and when they don’t answer, the nurse behind the desk points to the woman standing in front of her.)

Nurse: “[Woman]?”

Woman: *rudely* “No, my name is [Other Name], but my given name is [Woman]. I just choose not to answer to it.”

(The nurses inwardly face-palmed, and the patients in the waiting room burst out laughing.)