Over the years, I’ve had a few mishaps with people mispronouncing my name.
Mostly, the experience has been with children during babysitting incidents.
Two great ones come to mind:
- My best friend and I were babysitting a young girl on her street who apparently found Bridget to be a foreign word for her young vocabulary. Hilariously, however, “Birdshit” was not, and that became my name for the afternoon. Punctuated by pre-teen giggles, of course.
- Before we had kids of our own, Kenny and I once babysat for my friend’s children, one of whom was a toddler. At one point, Kenny called me “Bridge”, as he often does. Later that evening, my friend’s son yelled out, “Hey, Fridge! Can I have a snack?” Fridge. How presh. Hahaha! This one was too good not to stick, and in certain circles, I am still called Frij (more exotic spelling 😉 ) to this day, and their kids affectionately call me “Aunt Frij”. This would be wildly funny if I looked like I visited the fridge a bit less, but, hey, I have a good sense of humor and a realistic view of things – hahaha! (Note to Portland friends – I will not answer you if you call me this. 🙂 )
My most recent misnomer, however, might take the cake.
I called the help desk for an issue with work technology.
I went through the normal drill – employee ID, phone number where I can be reached if we get disconnected, verify your name…
Me – Bridget Clark.
Tech Dude – Virgin Clark. Thanks, Virgin.
Something tells me he wasn’t looking at the screen and verifying my name…
If I ever decide to write a memoir (don’t worry, that’s not a threat – my life isn’t that interesting), Birdshit: Tales of the Fridge Virgin, has a nice ring to it, no?