Emmas, Kates and Sarahs don’t know how lucky they are.
My name is Edwina, and it’s nice to meet you. Actually it’s probably not that awesome to meet you because it’s likely you’ll not be able to pronounce, spell or comprehend my name.
And if you work in a coffee shop, it’s highly likely that you’ll pretend you heard my name the second time you asked for it (way too awkward to ask me a third time, right?) and I’ll end up waiting for 15 minutes as someone continuously calls out for “Audrina” to collect her latte.
I know what you’re thinking: “Edwina isn’t even an unusual name, suck it up lady.” But if I face this daily struggle, I can’t even IMAGINE what life is like for the Saoirses, Joaquins and Quvenzhanés among us…
1. Ordering coffee/food/ANYTHING is anxiety-inducing
Getting to second place in any line is when the realisation usually hits you: “Soon I will have to say and then spell out my name for someone”. And they will probably tell me they’ve never heard that name before. Thanks for pointing that out, REBECCA.
2. Meeting someone with the same name as you induces this response
And is followed by about 30 minutes of gushing about the nasty names you get called and the hardships you face.
READ MORE: Lovey-dovey nicknames: secret relationship killers. Fact.
3. You are anal about the correct spelling of names
When sending emails you are always SUPER vigilant that you’ve spelled “Rachael” not “Rachel”, or “Wil” not “Will”, because you know how annoying it is when people spell your name like this: “Xmfenvbkds”.
READ MORE: All that glitters is not beautiful. These images will bring tears.
4. You’ve given up hope of ever owning anything monogrammed
Remember getting a mini number plate or key ring with your name on it as a kid? Cherish that memory. Those of us with uncommon names spent hours perusing two dollar shops hoping – wishing – that the companies responsible decided to take a random punt on an unusual name for once. (For the record, they never did.)
Quicky News Headlines: Thursday April 25th 2024
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My parents (well, pretty much my Mum) named me Blythe, a name I hated so much as a child I told my Dad, during a fit of rage, to call me Lucinda. He didn't, although he occasionally brings that up... Luckily my schooling was stable, going to the same primary and high schools from K-6 and 7-12. That meant my name became familiar to my peers - all good and it makes school reunions a little easier. Getting a job at 14 years and 9 months (as we did back in those days), and requiring a name tag prompted many a reaction from colleagues and customers... "How do you 'say' your name", "what does it really mean", "is it a made up name?". Teenage angst laid bare on the table. Fast forward to when I got my shit together. Completed a Communications Degree, worked my butt off, took a massive plunge moving to a city I'd never even visited and got to experience so much more professionally than I'd ever imagined. How this happened, in my estimation, was two-fold. I was good at my craft, as were many of my peers. But how many Blythe's were working in my field at the time? Just me. I'd built up a great rapport with my future boss in part based on our first ever conversation about my unusual name. If anyone wants to know, Blythe is a name meaning happy, joyous, kind, cheerful, pleasant. All I shall say is "I try".
My name is Rhea Lale. I always have to say me name more than once and spell it out every time. I would rather my name than a popular name that's spelt weirdly. At least my parents had some imagination.