annoying things that stick with you

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Throwback Thursday: My Name Is Not Susan

Below is a reprint of one of my most popular posts of all time. When random people find my blog, it’s because of this post. I can only assume most people are searching for “how to pronounce Joan,” and good for them.

Back when I wrote the below post, I was completely anonymous. So I used the names Joan and Joanne as an example of another set of names that are very similar to one another but WILDLY (to me) different in sound and feel.

These days, I use my real first name with wild abandon online and in the analog world. Online is preferable because people get my name right 99% of the time. In person, however, people still get it wrong. More than eleven years after writing this post, people STILL call me Susan. Almost every time I have to interact with a human, in fact. I have gotten much better about correcting them in the moment, but it still feels awkward. I think I also have a little more grace to offer than 2012 Suzanne did; she hadn’t yet gone through the humbling experience of having a child, so let’s forgive her for being so rigid about so much and so easily outraged. (I am still rigid and easily outraged… just less so.)

One phenomenon I have come across recently is name uncertainty. By this I mean a person with whom I have multiple encounters who vacillates between calling me Suzanne and Susan. When we had painters in our house, the foreman did this. Sometimes he would call, “Susan? Can you come look at this?” When his supervisor visited, he introduced me as Suzanne. This back and forth went on for three weeks. I may have corrected him the first time, but it didn’t stick, and I just didn’t care enough to go through the awkwardness of correcting him every time. Near the very end of our time together, he asked, “Is it Susan or Suzanne?” So clearly he wasn’t sure, ever, and was just trying things out. Maybe he hoped I wouldn’t answer to one of them and he could use process of elimination to figure out the truth. A similar thing happened when I was going through the process of finding a car to lease; the leasing agent kept going back and forth between Susan and Suzanne. Oh well. There are worse things.

If You Pronounce Joan and Joanne the Same Way, Please Do Not Read This Post

As I have mentioned before, people mispronounce my name all the time.

I don’t really get it. My name is not COMMON, but it’s not UNHEARD-OF. A couple of celebrities share my name, including a wildly popular author.  It was the name of at least one delightfully-divatastic, pig-owning sitcom character.

And, in my opinion, it’s spelled phonetically.  Well, not exactly phonetically, because I think phonics uses a bunch of weirdo symbols and stuff to denote sound? I don’t know. Are phonics and phonetically even related? Let’s pretend I never mentioned phonics.

What I’m trying to say is, I think it’s spelled the way it sounds.

Yet people mispronounce it a good 90 percent of the time.

Okay, okay. Maybe this is a product of Modern Times, where kre8tiv spellings are so abundant that you feel like you’re so unlikely to mispronounce a name that you just don’t even want to TRY anymore. Because even if you DO try, you wind up with the wrong pronunciation probably half the time.

Leikynlea could be LAY-kin-lee or LEE-kin-LAY-uh or Lay-KIN-lee or, well, the brain boggles at the potential pronunciations.

And just because a name is “old fashioned” in look doesn’t mean it’s old fashioned in SOUND! I mean, John may very well be Jo-hen or Juh-OH-wen or Yone or whatever, right?

I come from a town that’s FULL of unique names, so I GET IT. You just can’t win.

So typically, when people mispronounce my name, I just… deal with it. It happens. Whatever. Most people who are using my name like this are people I’ll never see again. So I just go with it.

But…

Sigh.

Anyway, my name gets mistaken most often for one other name. A very similar name, sure. But a TOTALLY DIFFERENT NAME, with its own spelling and own pronunciation.

And yes, a quick perusal of the Social Security Administration website shows that my name hasn’t been in the top 1000 names for girls since 1999, and even then it was given to fewer than 100 girls…

And the name my name gets mistaken for is still in the top 1000 names for girls, albeit given to fewer than 250 girls in 2011… So clearly, my name is less popular and less well-known than its doppelganger.

But come on. COME ON.

Let’s say my name is Joanne. It isn’t, but that’s a close enough approximation and it’s similar-ish in popularity.

So people frequently call me Joan. (Not really – Joan is a stand-in.)

Seriously. That is what they do. They call me Joan ALL THE TIME.

Even when I have helpfully spelled it out for them. Even when I have clearly stated my name FOR THEM.

Nope, still Joan.

After 30-odd years of this, you’d think I would be USED TO it.

And yet… I am not.

I went to the doctor the other day (missing a work meeting because of certain office restrictions and I am still not over it ARGH) and checked in at the reception desk. I said my name plainly and clearly. The receptionist handed my file – with my name written on it in clear capital letters – to the nurse. A nurse I’ve seen two or three times in the past six months.

The receptionist handed me a survey to fill out. (Speaking of which, do you ever have trouble answering those stupid questions on medical forms? Do you check the “headaches” box even though you only have headaches occasionally? And what about those yes or no questions? What if the answer is “sometimes” instead of a hard yes or a hard no? A lot of those questions seem like they should allow for a lot more grey area than they do!)

So I sat down in the only empty seat in the waiting room and settled in for the long wait. Because I have been to this doctor several times, and I always have to wait for at LEAST 15 minutes.  That’s why they give you paperwork with maddeningly confusing questions – so you don’t notice how much time is passing.

I got to about question 5 on that stupid form when, out of the corner of my ear (that’s totally a thing), I faintly heard someone call, “Joan?”

But I ignored it, because it wasn’t my name. So while my “someone is talking” sensors activated, my “someone is calling YOUR name” sensors did not.

Also, to make my case air-tight, I would like to clarify that I’d been there for about two minutes. If that. My seat wasn’t even warm yet, Internet.

I plowed through a few more questions – blatantly IGNORING one, I’ll have you know – and was vaguely aware that the person was still calling, “Joan? JOAN?”

So, like a normal person, I looked up to see what the hell Joan was doing that was so important she was ignoring the poor nurse. (Texting, probably.)

Of course, as you know, the poor nurse was looking at ME.

So, of course, were all the other patients. Poor, hearing-impaired Joan, their collective expressions said.

I looked at her with great surprise and did the Incredulous Self Point and she said, across the ENTIRE waiting room FULL of people, “Your name IS Joan, right?”

I was embarrassed, obviously, so I said, “Oh! Nope, it’s JoANNE!” in a way that I hoped was cheerful and un-blamey and this-happens-all-the-time, and followed it up with a cheery, “Wow, you guys are sure fast today!”

I don’t feel like I should have been embarrassed. It was the nurse’s mistake, after all. But I WAS and I AM.

(Perhaps this is payback for misspelling/missaying my work colleague’s name for so long?)

There’s nothing I can DO about it, obviously, except complain to you. (You: Gee, thanks.) I mean, I just have to spell my name and pronounce it clearly and accept the inevitable Joaning and, apparently, tune my “someone is calling your name” sensors to Joan AND Joanne.

I just want you to share my exasperation.

Before I let you go, allow me to add another gripe to this one.  It’s even MORE perplexing to me, Internet.

This one goes out to fast food servers and restaurant hostesses everywhere: If you were to hear a name, you would write it down in such a way that you would remember how to pronounce it, right?

I mean, obviously if you see my name out in the wild with no context and you can’t figure out how to pronounce it, that’s one thing. Forgivable. (Although: sigh.)

But if you DON’T ask, and YOU write it down the way you THINK that collection of sounds should be spelled, then wouldn’t you pronounce it correctly when you tell me my order/prescription/table is ready?

Sadly, Internet, the answer is typically no.

If people misname you, what do they call you? If you could choose a different name from your own, what would it be?

I am kinda sorta attempting to complete NaBloPoMo, with the full expectation that life will make it impossible any day now. If you want to follow along, or join the fun, check out San’s blog here.

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The Teenage Years

One of the most difficult aspects of parenting (for a highly-anxious, prone-to-catastrophizing person like me) is that there is an endless number of potential issues to contend with, and that so many of them come up without warning or context, leaving you to wonder, Is this a normal variation that is just part of a typical childhood? Or is this pathological and requires intervention? 

I don’t even know what to give as an example, because the things seem to come entirely out of the blue and I have ZERO idea how to handle them. But things like lying or bed wetting or stuttering – all things that could be Just A Phase, or could be Signs Of A More Complex Problem, but you don’t know until you know, I guess? I hate that. I want to be able to ask my mom or go on Google and hear/read, “A small percentage (5 to 13%) of children DO tend to turn purple at some point, usually between the ages of 6 and 11, but sometimes as early as age 3. Sometimes the hue leans a bit more toward blue or a bit more toward magenta; it typically fades after six months, but can last for up to two years. Avoiding crucifers during this time can truncate the duration. If your child’s skin develops yellow polka dots during the purple phase, take them immediately to the doctor.” 

Like, just CLEAR and COMFORTING information that says, this is not super common, but it DOES happen, and here’s what to watch for if you are concerned it’s taking an atypical turn… Why can’t there be that for every possible variation of child behavior? WHY. 

(I know why.)

Anyway, what I am hoping to discuss currently is The Teenage Years. 

It seems that I have had MULTIPLE encounters lately with adults who like to say, “Just wait until she’s a teenager.” Sometimes, this is in response to Extreme Sassafras (why is there only one S on the end of this word??) on the part of my child, who sometimes turns up the sass factor because she has the mistaken impression that people find it charming/funny. Well. Some people do, in fact, find it charming and funny, which I find tiresome and irritating. But they don’t have to experience True Sass on a daily basis, so I suppose I should give them a break. Sometimes, this baffling warning comes in response to witnessing/discussing something lovely that my kid does – like how she still holds my hand (sometimes) when we’re walking, or how she’ll still sit on my lap while I read to her, or how she still loves to run up and fling herself at people she cares about for a big hug. “Just wait until she’s a teenager,” they’ll intone, this time with a tenor of pre-wistfulness or knowledgeable sadness.

I am familiar with the “cherish the moment” faction. And I am familiar with the “better sleep now, because you won’t sleep again once the baby’s born!” faction. And I am familiar with the concept of people who either forget how much they disliked being forewarned about things you can literally do nothing about or who feel in their heart of hearts that they have somehow encountered The One Person who has gone an entire lifetime without encountering the concept of a phase of life that literally all people go through. People are just… going to do this. From now until the end of time, probably. And yet, I still find this so irritating I want to scream. 

Probably it is because I am growing increasingly anxious/fearful of The Teenage Years with every passing day. 

And also, I am irritated because it feels inescapably gendered. I don’t think my friend who has sons gets “Just wait until he’s a teenager”ed every five minutes. Plus, I cannot tell you how many times I have heard people say things in knowing, faux-concerned voices about how a person (usually the father) is going to endure life with THREE TEENAGE DAUGHTERS, as if that is just the absolute worst thing that any human can live through. 

But mainly, I am irritated because I cannot do anything about it. Nothing. If we are very lucky, my daughter will grow and age and at some point become A Teenager. That is a thing that happens. I cannot prolong her not-a-teenager years any more than I can prolong my own youth. 

I am not discounting the very real effects of hormonal changes on young adults! I realize that teenagers CAN be moody and distant and disrespectful and all the terrible things! I get it! Puberty is an actual phenomenon that changes people’s behavior!  

But I am just super annoyed at the people who keep saying, “Just you wait.” WHAT am I supposed to do with that information? Cherish every non-teenage moment, I suppose. 

Today, I am going to make two lists. One list of things that I can look FORWARD to about the teenage years, and a list of things that I want to address when my daughter is a teen. Preferably, my husband and I would discuss and have a plan for these things well in advance, but to be honest, they seem both so horrifying and so far away that I am struggling to focus on them. 

Things About the Teenage Years to Look Forward To

  • Having a kid who can drive herself to / from places (I recognize that this is also a negative point, because I cannot fathom my precious baby a) operating an enormous motor vehicle or b) driving around in the world with so many oblivious idiots)
  • Being able to watch ALL (most) movies together
  • Prom
  • Having more time to myself / more silence (“Just you wait,” says the knowing post-teenage parent, “When she’s a teenager you’ll find yourself LONGING for the days when she talked nonstop for four straight hours.”)
  • Fewer toys cluttering up the house
  • Real conversations 
  • No need for a babysitter
  • Another cook in the house
  • No more playdates – or, at least, not being in charge of scheduling/organizing playdates and enduring the unbearable awkwardness of interacting with parents I don’t know 
  • No longer needing to be the communication bridge between my kid and her friends

Things I Want to Figure Out How to Address

  • Social media
  • Phone / screen time
  • Peer pressure around sex / drugs / alcohol / social media / appearance
  • Sexual assault
  • Driving, with and without friends
  • Spending the night at other kids’ houses
  • Romantic relationships

Well, these lists both seem too short. I did consult a few online lists along the lines of “Great Things About Having a Teen!” Some of them – like enjoying shopping together, or sharing clothing and makeup – seem difficult to predict; I don’t know if Carla will care about shopping or clothing or makeup. And I want to emphasize academics and career-planning, but I’m not sure how to do so in a way that prioritizes Carla’s personality/goals rather than emphasizing the values I grew up with, so I’m not putting it on the list currently. I will continue to think about these topics and add to the lists as I come up with new items. Let me know what you would include. (And if you have any good books about anticipating / raising teenagers, I would be interested in those!)

In the meantime, I ordered this book over the weekend: 

image from amazon.com

While Carla is not quite nine, we are knocking on nine’s door. I am really hoping that the heretofore kind, measured Louise Bates Ames doesn’t say anything akin to, “Just WAIT until she’s a teenager.”