Thank God My Name's Not...

One thing I've come to appreciate in the past few weeks is my name--first and last. Both my maiden and married names. I type names into spreadsheets all day long, laughing to myself at the names of Pennsylvanian towns and South Carolinan first names. Names with too many hyphens, accents, and tildes--all where they don't really belong. And why do parents insist on giving their children very boring names but spicing them up by changing the spellings. Kaitlyn. Caitlyn. Catelin. Katelynne. Kaitelynne. Caytelinn. Seriously people, if you're going to spell your daughter's name Caytelinn, why not just call her Shantonsha or Shequinta or something equally disjointed.

But really, awful spellings to what are otherwise "normal" names are better to the alternative: horrible, horrible last names. Names that likely make teachers laugh when they find them on their rosters. Names that result in a lifetime of teasing. At least the girls can get married and have a reason to change it. And maybe I just find names funnier than most people, but it took all I had not to laugh out loud as I typed in Edward McAssey IV, Jeremy Seeman, Greg Busanus and Kristin Douchelli. Today I came across Elizabeth Cummo. (Pun most definitely intended.)

During some down time yesterday, as I cleared out the post-its everywhere each with a different data entry rule or special school code, I found half a sheet of paper with the following names scribbled in a foreign cursive: Lisa M. Goodhead, EJ Chesnutis, Jared Reddicks, Amanda Cravinho. So someone else does this too. And then I worried about what would have happened if people found this after I left, believing that it was me, the quiet temp in the corner, who wrote these down and had a laugh at the expense of these poor eighteen-year-olds who just want to graduate and get away from people who yell out "Hey, McAnus! Did you wipe yourself today?" and the like.

Eventually I starting thinking about the possibility that these people may fall in love with people who have equally awful names. They would meet at a friend's party, be immediately smitten, think about this person for weeks before being introduced again, deciding they would definitely marry this person, dream about a last name like Smith or Johnson or Wilson only to find out the truth. The engagement in the newspaper would say Gary Wilfahrt to marry Jenny Gassaway. I see her trying to change him.