The other day I was taking my 2pm walking break from work, and of course I end up at Starbucks. I go through the usual process of ordering my regular drink (I don't know why, but this part always makes me feel like one of the plastics from Mean Girls) -although I do genuinely enjoy my Zen tea. Anyways, so then comes the million dollar question, "may I have your name," which I'm still amused by as my name begins with two vowels and I can't help but wonder what my sharpied in name for the day will be.
So I tell the barista my name, and he compliments me saying that my name is very pretty and then adds "not that that's a compliment, it's not like you had a say in choosing your name." I of course found his explanation to be a major breakthrough of some sort, as if he had just solved some inexplicable mystery of the universe.
The entire walk back I couldn't help but laugh to myself at about how right he was. Because really how many of us play a role in choosing our own moniker? It's usually someone else who has decided (usually even before we are born) that we look like an Elizabeth or an Apple and from there forth we are stuck with that until we can afford to change our own names. But really does it matter by that time? You're already known as Mysteri (yes this is a RHOBH reference, don't judge me) or Leaf by then -unless you're forced into the witness protection plan and start a new beginning (I know I need to stop watching/reading thrillers)
The moral of this story is that I think I'll probably think twice before I compliment someone's name now, unless I tell them to pass it along to whomever named them (which will most definitely elicit weird looks and hinder any chances of making new friends).
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