I have this problem a lot. Is it just us Irish, or are the Irish the only ones to pipe up when somebody gets it wrong?
I went through all of secondary school (6 years, Jr. High and High School) with a classmate who called me Don. My name is not Don. But I was too embarrassed to correct him, and after a while it was too late.
Either that … Or maybe I really am Don, and not who I think I am. That would explain a lot.
Usually people call me Ellen, which is my sister’s name. Sometimes they don’t even know I have a sister named Ellen.
I had two friends in college; I’d known them both in largely overlapping circles for a couple of years. One day, Tony comes up to Eddie and says,
“Steve. Your name isnt’ Steve, is it”
“No.”
“It’s Tony isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
Eddie had been calling Tony Steve for at least two years. Tony just got used to answering to Steve. I think Eddie had tried to start calling him Tony after that, but Tony didn’t answer to it very much, and Eddie didn’t remember it very much. I just always really enjoyed that exchange.
Suffice to say, at least some of us Nor’easterners don’t pipe up too quickly when someone gets it wrong.
Having the name I do, it is rare (if ever) that somebody gets it wrong. I have always wondered how it might have been had my name been Alexander Throckmorton III… but perhaps I don’t want to know.
A somewhat similar exchange happened to me, telephonically.
One day my phone rang, and after I answered with my customary “Hello”, the caller responded with, “Hey, guy, how ya doin’?!” And the voice was that of my friend Dave, a roommate from college with whom I hadn’t spoken in perhaps half a year. So I answered with, “I’m well! How are you? It’s been a long time since we talked!”
The conversation went on for, oh, ten or fifteen minutes until Dave said, “So how are the kids?” Being a single fellow, and childless, I answered with, “Huh? Kids? What?”, and a few seconds later it was established that Dave wasn’t Dave, and I wasn’t his friend (Ken, or somebody…) – neither of us was who the other person thought it was. So we thanked each other for the few minutes of pleasant conversation and hung up.
The rest of the day felt a little strange, somehow.
This is only peripherally related, but when my kid was about 9 he went to summer camp. His cabin counselor was a young man from
Scotland who introduced himself as “Marcus.”
Gabe, not accustomed to a Scottish burr, replied “do you have a nickname I can call you, because Muffkis is hard to say.”
Well, almost nobody but the Irish seem to do it with nearly such characteristic mental agility.
I mean, you’d better be on your toes for sure when someone greets you with, “Is it yourself, then?”
A guy came up to me in Dublin one night and asked was it me or me brother that died. I knew him as a Junkie so I politely informed him that I don’t have any brothers. He offered his hand and said “I am so sorry to hear that” and off he went.
He forgot to ask me for my spare change…
Slan,
D. 
I don’t have a brother either 
'course I didn’t know him well enough to miss him 
Somebody your size should have no problem remembering where they left themselves..
Just ask…
Slan,
D. 
I really like this thread