It’s my third year of volunteering at The Salem Film Festival. Originally, all of my posts for this year were going to be on The Salem Author From Bennington. But in the spirit of consistency, posts like this should definitely remain on Confessions.
My shift was at the Cinema Salem. I showed up, fifteen minutes early like I was supposed to. The woman who had taken charge of the site had a list of names of the people who were supposed to be here. Lets call her Cindy.
Cindy: Hi, what’s your name.
Me: Nathanielle Crawford.
Cindy: Nice to meet you. There’s supposed to be two people coming. One of them I know, the other one is already here, but there’s a woman on my list that I don’t know.
Me: Well, you don’t know me, so I’m probably the person you were expecting.
Cindy: No, we met the other day.
Me: Oh right, you were the retired principal. Good to see you again.
Cindy: Same here. So I’m not sure if this woman is going to show up or not.
She pulls out the list and I see, written in pencil “Nathalie Crawford”.
Me: Um… that’s me.
Cindy: Oh dear, that’s strange.
Me: Yeah, that’s a whole other level of butchering my name that I didn’t know existed.