This post is dedicated to the cashier at MajorMart where I bought my shoes. Her name was Dolly and she just took it in stride when I couldn’t resist saying, “Well, hello Dolly.”
“You’re not the first, you won’t be the last,” she said.
“Bet I’m the youngest though.” Which may or may not be true. After all, I first saw that movie in a tenth grade music class so it stands to reason that kids are still watching it now. The difference between me and most of them is that I actually watch it on purpose now. And yes, I know Hello Dolly was based on The Matchmaker and I haven’t seen the latter. I’ll live.
The point is, that while I will never make fun of someone’s name, I can’t help but make those little connections. And if my intent isn’t malicious and if the recipient of my innocent commentary isn’t offended, I’ll often make the leap without thinking too much about it, because at least it shows that I’m paying attention. But if someone is paying with a check and I see from their identification that their first name is Adolph, I’ll keep my mouth shut and say, “Carry on.”
Tomorrow is Wednesday. For the first time on a month I am going to try my hand at the open mic once more. After a long and painful month of not having any confidence to take the stage again, not counting the Shakespeare Open Mic, I have decided to join that special part of the human race that makes a living calling out the bullshit of the rest of the human race.