My mom’s name is two very common names pushed together. Almost nobody can understand her when she says her name. For this reason, she uses a moniker whenever she orders take-out or makes a reservation at a restaurant.

My dad and I have just arrived at the house when she stops me in the driveway. She says we need to pick up dinner that she and my sister ordered from two takeout restaurants that are right next to each other, and she also needs to stop in the market one more door down. When we park, she goes in one, and I go in the other. She tells me she phoned in the order and it was under her moniker, but she never told me what the order was, nor did I think to ask.

Cashier: “Hello, picking up or placing an order?”

Me: “Picking up.”

Cashier: “Okay, what’s the order?”

Me: “It’s under [Moniker].”

Cashier: *Looking* “[Name #1?].”

Me: “No, [Moniker].”

Cashier: “I have a [Name #2]?”

Me: “No. It should be under [Moniker].”

Cashier: “What was the order?”

Me: “I don’t know. All I know is that it was under [Moniker].”

Cashier: “Well, we don’t take names here. I need to know what the order was.”

If you don’t take names, why did you ask for a name and rattle off two more?

I call my mom’s cell phone. No answer. Finally, I see her driving up to the front of the restaurant, confused as to why my hands are empty.

Mom: “Where’s the food?”

Me: “They don’t have an order under [Moniker].”

Mom: “Oh. Well, I never actually gave them my name.”

Me: *Mental head-desk* “What’s the order?”

Mom: “I don’t know. I think it had something with chicken, lettuce, tomato, and mayonnaise.”

Me: “All right, I’ll go try that.”

I go back inside.

Cashier: “Back?”

Me: “Yep. Sorry about that. She doesn’t remember what she ordered, but she thinks it had chicken, lettuce, tomato, and mayonnaise.”

Cashier: “Right here! Here you go!”

I paid and left, frustrated with both ends of the party.

Related:
Name Blame Game, Part 5
Name Blame Game, Part 4
Name Blame Game, Part 3
Name Blame Game, Part 2
Name Blame Game

My family moved from a small, traditional island community to a bustling city when I was really young because my parents were offered an opportunity they couldn’t afford to miss. This meant changing schools, meeting new friends, etc.

It is the first day of secondary school for my older brother, and he is nervous, to say the least. His name is Natsei, pronounced “Nat-say,” but everyone calls him “Nat” or “Nats” to avoid the obvious. He is in his first class of the day, English, where the teacher is doing attendance.

Teacher: “Erm… Mr. [Our Last Name]?”

Brother: *Raises his hand* “Here.”

Teacher: “Could I ask, how do you pronounce your name?”

Brother: “You can call me Nat; a lot of people do to avoid what I know you’re thinking about.”

Teacher: “For future reference, however, how do you pronounce your name?”

Brother: “Nat-Say.”

Teacher: “I bet your parents didn’t think that one through, did they?”

Brother: “Considering that it’s a traditional name handed down through my family, I would say they did.”

The teacher ended up calling him by our last name for the rest of his time in school.

There are two agents in the office; I can only take payments for the one I work for as, when I type in a name, only his customers will come up. The other agent is busier than ours, so their customers will sometimes try to pay with me instead of waiting.

A guy comes up and gives me his name. The last name comes up, but I am unsure of the first. I repeat it back to him and verify the address. He pays and I give him a receipt.

He comes back later.

Customer: “You stole my money! It’s not showing in the system!”

Me: “Can I see your receipt? I’ll try to find where the money went.”

Customer: “No! You’ll tear it up!”

Me: “There are several people in the office. Do you really think I’d tear it up in front of all of them?”

I took the receipt. The money was applied correctly… except it was to his son’s account. It took some time to figure it out. His son had insurance with our agency, and he had insurance with the other agent. They had similar first names and the same address, so my bad. I apologized and called to have the money moved over and I showed him what happened.

Not the end.

He called the police on me for stealing his money… and sat outside until they came… and they laughed at him.

Caller: “I asked you guys to email me a copy of my receipt last Thursday and I never got it.”

I find the transaction, and I can see that we tried sending it several times but it kept bouncing back as rejected by the customer’s domain.

Me: “Sorry about that; it looks like the email failed to send several times. Let me read back the email address we sent it to: S-T-E-V-E.[last name]@[domain]. Is that correct?”

Caller: “Yep, that should be right.”

Me: “Okay, well, let me get in there and email it again. One sec.”

Caller: “You spelled it with a V, right? Sometimes people put a PH, instead.”

Me: *Light bulb* “Sorry, was that supposed to go to steven.[lastname]@[domain]?”

Caller: “Yes, Steven with a V.”

Me: “Sorry about that. We sent it to just steve.[last name].”

Caller: “It’s weird that I didn’t get it if you sent it to steven.[last name].”

Me: “I just resent it. You should see it any moment.”

I swear, tunnel hearing is just as real as tunnel vision!

I am craving a smoothie, so I pop into my local smoothie shop to order one. I’ve only ordered from this franchise once or twice in the past and am not familiar with their drink names, but I want to get something similar to what I had last time. The only thing I remember about the drink was that it had mangoes and spinach.

Cashier: “Hi! How can I help you?”

Me: “Hi there! I’m sorry, I don’t order from here often. In the past, I ordered a drink that had mangoes and spinach in it. Do you have a drink like that?”

Cashier: “Spinach is in it?”

Me: “Yeah… or maybe it was kale? I don’t know, I definitely remember spinach. It had mangoes, too. 

Cashier: “Ah, okay. So, spinach is in it?”

Me: “Yup, it had spinach.”

Cashier: “Okay, your total is [total].”

I just assumed she knew what I was talking about, so I paid and moved to the side. As I was waiting for my drink, I glanced at the menu board, wondering what the name of the drink was. My eyes scanned the board until I found it. 

The drink name? “Spinach Is In It.”

The cashier and I had a good laugh about that one!