Name Games

I’ve had a few issues with my name recently.

Firstly, I’ve become an expert speller. I spell my name with ultimate eloquence and clarity approximately 50 times a day as I speak to Liberians, Columbians, Americans, Lords, Ladies and teenagers amongst the other wonderful people you encounter in journalism. They just can’t seem to grasp it and I never thought I would suffer from the sheer fatigue of spelling my name.

I often think that for work purposes I should change it to Sarah Smith or Amy Jones. But those of you who know me will agree I don’t look like a Sarah or act like an Amy (if Sarah or Amy look or act like anything)– somehow I just could not pull it off.

Then there’s pronouncing my name. The French guests I speak to give the ‘R’ a run for its money, whilst the British love to turn the ‘U’ into an ‘ooooo’. The Italians make my name sound like a lot of fun, as if they bouncing it up and down.

Names have really been giving me a hard time – and not just my own.

8am, Holborn station and from amongst the crowd I hear a charming voice call my name. I smile at the young lady as she greets me with real joy. And as she walks towards me I turn on the rewind button in my brain. I zoom through my university days, school, travels …. I even go back to nursery – I just do not know who she is. She on the other hand knows my life story.

And therein is the dilemma. Do I embarrass the hell out of both of us by telling her I do not have a clue who she is, or do I play along hoping I won’t get caught out. The torture was unbearable.

And so I ask her after 5 minutes – “who on Earth are you?” She courteously reintroduces herself but I can tell our friendship is over. Even I wouldn’t want to be friends with someone who fails to remember my name and hence leaves me with no identity. We exchange numbers, I spell my name…. again.

This is not the first time I have found myself in such a cringeworthy situation. I cannot seem to mentally imprint the faces of all the people I meet on the walls of my brain. My brutal honesty in telling these people I have not recollection of ever meeting them puts me (and them) in the epitome of embarrassing situations. I should spare them.

But hey, I am from time to time victim to this social crisis myself.

My boss the other day called me Nisha for quite a few hours and I politely went along with it. I did indeed become Nisha for the day and well no one had any problems spelling my name. It was a bit of a social experiment taking on a whole new identity as Nisha. I also did not have the courage to tell him he’d just re-christened me. I’ve had another boss not call me nothing for an entire shift. I’d much rather be Nisha than nameless. They asked a question hoping my head would be the one to pop up from behind the computer. Which of course it always did.


The name game is definately one game I do not like playing.