Say my name, say my name

For 30ish years I've had the same first name and I'm quite fond of it. I like that it is unique and not many people know an "Alise" (pronounced a-lease). And because of its uniqueness, people often mispronounce it. I cannot tell you how many times I've been called Alice, Alicia, or Alisa even though many of the letters in those names are nowhere present in mine. To add insult to injury, the Husband brought an equally mispronounceable sir name to the table upon our nuptials. So, now I've got a dooze of a name that requires spelling AND corrections. Usually, I correct the offending party right away but sometimes I don't, like if I will never see the person again and it doesn't really matter if they remember me as Alice or Aisha or if it would be awkward or embarrassing to the person if I made the correction...which leads us to the mother of all awkward non-correcting tales that stars my sweet as pie chiropractor.

I've been going to the same chiropractor for almost a year. She is about as big as my pinkie finger and just as nice as she could be. For the first few months, I don't recall her using my name regularly but somewhere around month five that changed and she started using it multiple times at every visit. Don't get me wrong, I love hearing my own name in conversations but she isn't saying my name in large part, I think, because she thinks my name is Alice. "Hi Alice!" "How are the kids, Alice?" "Do you have any travel plans, Alice?" "Well, Alice! I'll see you in two weeks!" Alice. Alice. Alice!

On one particularly "Alice" ladened day, she told me another patient of hers recently had a baby and named her Alice and she told said patient that she had another patient named Alice (wait for it.....I was the "other" Alice) and she thought it was really interesting that she now knew two Alices because that was such an unusual name. No. You know what an unusual name is?  ALISE!!!! And I know this because that is my name! A part of me really wanted to say that out loud but I kept my id in check and said nothing. Now too much time has passed, her other patient thinks she knows two Alices and I think she would be embarrassed and I don't want that so I will continue to be Alice to my chiropractic. Lesson learned. I'm considering becoming really proactive and just wearing a name tag everywhere I go. Oh, but then it will be harder to ignore those people in the mall who wish to sell me a bracelet that will give me Zeus-like powers. I cannot win.
 
Now because my name is seemingly unspellable and unpronounceable, I have no shortage of stories where my name has been butchered but I do have one story I am particularly fond of and I think you'll agree. As I mentioned, my married last name is no Smith (although I'm told it is about as popular as Smith in Poland and I'm guessing in Poland no one mispronounces Kowalski. Maybe we should move...). I was convinced that everyone knew that Kowalski was a Polish name but it wasn't until I met a man from Alabama that I realized my assumptions were wrong. I was at a Washington, DC hotel at a reception for agriculture-related industry folk, mingling with co-workers when a pair of southern gentlemen approached me and my friend, Mert. I will report the actual conversation and I promise you that not one bit of it is made up which is what makes it so awesome:

Southernly gentleman: Hi, my name is Wade Jessup [not his actual name, but Wade Jessup sounds so Alabamian, don't you think?] and I work for the Alabama Farm Bureau.

Me: My name is Alise Kowalski and I work for the Chairman of the Agriculture Committee.

SG: Kowalski? Is that Mexican? [!!!!!!!!!!]

Me (my eyebrows arched in amusement): Mexican? Well, no, it is Polish.

SG: Polish? Huh. I thought it was Mexican. You know, it's strange but we have a lot of Polaks where we live. I thought the Polaks lived mostly in Michigan. I guess not, huh?

Seriously. I told you you wouldn't be disappointed.

I was stunned into silence. This man was well on his way to offending at least one country per continent and I have every confidence he could have done it had I given him another five minutes.  It was at this point that I excused myself and made my way to the dessert table which I'd been neglecting all evening.

So, to all of the Sarah Smiths, Beth Browns, Jen Jones, and Molly Millers out there: live it up and savor that no one will do a hatchet job on your name. 



Signing off,

Alice Kawasaki