My name is not Susan…

25 Jul

Did you hear the hissy fit foot stompin’ shouting?  That was me.

Three pieces of mail, a couple of blog mentions, and a wad of jackwagonery at the doctors office – and my name is misspelled on all of it.

It’s stupid, I know – but it chaps my ass when people spell my name wrong.

It’s M-I-C-A-E-L.  Not Michael.  No H.  Not Micheal.  The A comes first – just like in the alphabet!  You DO know the alphabet, don’t you? Not Mike.  Not Mikey.  Not Mickey.  Micael.

It’s been Micael for a very long ass time.  Don’t help me spell my name properly asshole phone bitch at Scott & White.  Don’t fix it for me.

You figure that if our illustrious government can spell it right on my taxes and disability and IDs, then every other Tom, Dick, and Mary can figure it out.


Yes, I’m bitchy.  And my name is Micael.

Maybe I should just change it to Fuh Q. Verimuch and be done with it.


9 Responses to “My name is not Susan…”

  1. Rabbit July 25, 2011 at 1:26 pm #

    I had a friend growing up name Barbara – and back then Barbra was still relatively popular. Used to drive her crazy, too. She always barked that she did not have the nose to be a Streisand!

  2. lolamouse July 25, 2011 at 2:36 pm #

    I feel your pain! I remember spelling it wrong once and hurrying to correct it so you wouldn’t get offended. My grandmother, to the day she died, never learned to spell my name right! Just promise not to send the neon pink you-know-what after me if I make a type-o!
    Love ya,
    Sheri (not Sherri or Sherry or Shari or Cheri)

  3. Mynx July 25, 2011 at 3:52 pm #

    Despite the slight feeling of paranoia that I may have added to the pain (if I did I am so sorry, totally accidental) I do know what you mean.
    My parents named me Tricia. My friends call me Trish (I prefer it, the full version reminding me of the times I was in trouble as a kid) Hubby callls me Tish.
    What I hate is the presumption that my name is Patricia. Nope. Not that, not Pat, Patrick, and please don’t ever call me Trishy.

    • Rabbit July 25, 2011 at 3:58 pm #

      Funny how particular we are about something as simple as a name.

      Reminds me of the book “Into the Wild” – where Jonathan is seeking his new name and he comes across the passage in Dr. Zhivago about calling each thing by it’s right name. Sometimes that, I think, in and of itself is the largest part of the journey.

    • Rabbit July 25, 2011 at 3:59 pm #

      For a moment she rediscovered the purpose of her life. She was here on earth to grasp the meaning of its wild enchantment, and to call each thing by its right name. By its right name.

  4. J July 25, 2011 at 4:15 pm #

    “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose
    By any other name would smell as sweet.”
    Besides, a name is WHO we are, it grounds us. As nerdy as what I’m about to say, I feel it’s kinda true. In folklore with fairies and the like, their “true” name held power over them. I feel we are kinda like that.

    • Rabbit July 25, 2011 at 4:25 pm #

      That’s so true, J. I think we discover our names as we discover ourselves.

      Mine were both given to me and melded to fit over time, and perhaps that is why it is so infuriating.

      Maybe it’s a matter of respect? I don’t know.

      It’s almost like it’s mangling a part of you…

  5. Jenny July 25, 2011 at 11:20 pm #

    That post made me laugh, really laugh. I can so relate, and because of it I do my best to get names right, both in spelling and orally.

    I have a relatively simple name, how can it go so far wrong…but it does and like you I don’t take it quietly or sitting down.

    Good on you for setting them straight!

    Cheers, Jenny (not Jen, not Jenni, not Jennifer…it Just Jenny – I did a post on it too)

  6. Robyn Erickson July 26, 2011 at 12:32 am #

    God I fucking hope I didn’t spell your name wrong when I sent you your belated birthday gift. Well, if I did….sorry. I was probably half asleep when I filled out the envelope. But, I do get what you are saying. People spell my first and last name wrong all the time, and I have to correct them. I get a little bent sometimes at that idea.

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