Just on the Tip of my Tongue
So a pleasant looking young woman pokes her head in the door of my office, obviously just passing by on her way somewhere else.
"Hi, Hank," she says. Very sprightly.
I look up from my computer. NO IDEA. "Hi," I say, equally enthusiastic.
She leaves, thank goodness, because my next gambit, sadly, was going to be the oh-so-lame and incredibly transparent: "what's new?" A clear indication, in my estimation at least, that I had no idea who she was, or what she was doing there.
Now nice it would have been, I thought after she left if I had looked up and been able to say. Oh, hi, Emma-- or whatever her name is, I still have no idea. That's what people do, right? They know each other's names.
Not me, sister.
I can be introduced to someone at a party, and two seconds later have no idea. None. Now I know there are tricks, don't think I haven't tried them, after all these years of name struggling. I know that if you want to remember a name, you have to care. And say the name, even a couple of times.
Hi, Emma, so nice to meet you Emma.
(I love it when someone actually does that with me. I think-- oh, you read the books and now you're gonna remember my name well, good for you, because i have no idea about yours.)
And the really high level rememberers have figured out how to add another trick. They make a word association.
Like--"Her name is Betty. Like Betty Crocker, and I bet she likes to cook." Somehow, that is supposed to help you. And in fact, I know it does. There's used to be a restaurant in Newton where we live, and the maitre d' there was named Fred.
His name, I remember. Because when I met him, I thought-- I' m going to DO this. So i said to myself: Fred, you're fed. (See, because it's a restaurant.)
Problem is, that restaurant is long gone, and Fred along with it, but I still remember his darn name. And what good is that, I ask you? And it, no doubt, is taking up the room in my brain for remembering someone else's name.
Plus, I always get distracted, trying to think of the clever mnemonic device that'll burn the vict-- I mean, person's name into my weary brain. Will I actually remember Betty by Betty Crocker?
Why would I remember that? What if she doesn't like to cook? Then the whole thing doesn't work. And by that time she's gone and it probably won't matter until I see her in the drug store or someplace and it's so out of context I'll call her Julia--because Julia Child likes to cook, right?
Having a husband or partner in crime is helpful, or at least, can be helpful if your partner knows the game. Do you do this? I say to Jonathan---in preparation for am evening's name-test: Okay, sweetheart. If I introduce you and don't say the person's name, that means—YOU say something to elicit it.
I mean, you do that, right? And you know to say your name when the introducer doesn't say it? I say my one name ALL the time, I always re-introduce myself. Just in case someone is equally name-challeneged.
Although that can sometimes backfire, too. "I just met you two minutes ago, Hank," people say. "Don't you remember?"
Sigh. No. And sometimes I worry I'm being rude or hurting people's feelings. (Adding to the confusion, as a reporter, people feel as if they know me. So they come up to me and say--Hank! And I think--oh, no. Do I know this person? And race through my mental Rolodex. The kind ones are already saying: you don't know me , but... For which I am grateful.)
(And a special no-no message to those who say "Do you remember me?" Like, it's a test? I fail. What can I say. Please don't say that to someone.)
Once I introduced Jonathan as "Andrew." I still shake my head when think of it. It's because I was thinking about someone across the room, trying to think of his name, which I did, and remembered it was Andrew. So of course I said that: "This is my husband, Andrew." Jonathan still talks about it.
Experts will tell you it's about fear, or holding the attitude that we can;t remeber so we don't, or overwhelmedness at too many names at once, or becuase we don't actually HEAR the name, or because we dont think we'll be called on to remember. And remebmer, when the person says their name, you always say--oh, right. It's not like it's gone forever. It's about retrieval.
Thing is, once I recover the name, I can tell you everything about the person--long histories, previous encounters with elaborate detail, where their kids are in college, their dogs names, all kinds of stuff. I remember everything about them. Problem is it's all stored under their name, and that part, I do not know. Well, I know it, I just can't retrieve it. And you can't go through the alphabet while you're standing there.
I'm all about privacy, but what do you think about universal name tags? Just a modest proposal. We slap on a sticky tag on before we leave each morning. If you want to be cool or innovative about it, you could embroider your name on a tote bag or something.
Or, you know everyone has a baseball cap with a logo right? Those are so twenty minutes ago. How about we each get a hat with our name on it? (Kids would be exempt, I understand the problem.) But over, say, thirty years old? Name hat.
Okay, you're not gonna do that. And I guess it's not that workable. Although, Lance Armstrong (was that his name?) got everyone to wear those yellow bracelets. And my system could already work if your name is Gucci or Burberry. Or--Coach!
But here's my plea. Can't it just be socially acceptable to say-- oh, yikes, tell me your name again? We all do it. We all have name problems. Ah--don't we? Tell me we do. I mean--I do want to remember.
So are some of you tlc'ers (and you know who you are) really good at this? If so-- how do you do it?
