People can’t seem to remember my name – and it’s not half as complicated as John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt.
My name is Caroline, as in Caroline Kennedy or Caroline in the City (the precursor to Sex in the City, duh) or my personal fave, Caroline Manzo from the impassioned cast of Real House Wives of NJ. And no, it is not Carolyn. Caroline, like a straight y=mx+b sort of line. Now that the formal introduction is complete, we can move onto drinks in the drawing room and listen to the piano man.
The valiant Ezekiel, a custodianal hero, hailing from Mexico City, comes by every day pleasant and smiling at work. He asks me what I’m studying, how my day is… we talk about such important things as being sleepy or what’s for dinner. But without fail, “Su nombre!!?!?!?!” I reply “Esta bien senor. Mi llamo Carolina!” He will forget again tomorrow. If he just wanted to let it go and talk about beer or how many days left before the weekend that would be ok with me.
It’s not only native Spanish speakers that have trouble remembering me.
There is a white and portly man named Billy that is boiling over with friendliness and merriment. He works for a cat skiing operation up in Crested Butte. My boyfriend, his friend Heaven, and I went to meet him to purchase backpacks that have airbags in it case of avalanche. I cannot tell you anymore about these jetpacks. I wasn’t paying attention.
Mason introduced me to Billy Boy as Caroline, and we walked into his office. There was a long time in that office while I sat in the corner looking at the ceiling and them boys looked up youtube videos on how these avalanche air bags worked. Luckily I had some sixlets and gummy bears to keep me company.
Following there was a formal goodbye, where everyone said how much they meant to one another, kisses on the cheeks, hugging, tears in the eyes, the embrace that dudes do where they grab each other’s shoulder and make good eye contact and sort of shake their shoulders….you get the picture. And then after all of this good naturedness and coming together, Billy struggles , “Eh woman, what’s your name again?” It kind of killed the moment.
It wasn’t but last night, that we meet this larger than life Billy at the pizza parlor. Billy again ingratiated Mason with loving words about how exciting it is that it snows in the mountains, or something. Again, I wasn’t paying attention. Then Billy catches a glimpse of me and again misses the mark, “Tiffany??” We tried to brainstorm ways on how he could remember Caroline Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt. We’ll see how it works.
Turns out Billy and I both like to talk about psychics.