S went to town this morning. To Asda and to Caffe Nero, I’m not sure in what order. When it’s busy in Neros – and other coffee shops – they often ask for your name, which they write on your cup. They evidently did that this morning, which presented S with a dilemma. Which name to give? Mine, hers, a made up name? Thanks to my Jenasaurus name, over on Twitter we are known as “Dino” and it looks like S chose that as a compromise because this is the empty mug I found.
Last week when we attended our appointment with our psych, there was a new woman on reception who asked for our name. Knowing our psych would be expecting us, I said “Jen”. The receptionist picked up the phone before looking at us and asking “and your surname?” Hell, no. “You don’t need my surname” I told her, and I was right, she didn’t.
Twice in a week we’ve navigated what would once have been awkward questions about our name successfully. I call that a win.