Monikers
Al grunted in annoyance as he entered the office building. He knew he was late, but he had warned them when making the appointment. It was the reason he was here after all. The receptionist looked up from her typing and he tried to smile, though from her lack of reaction he was less than successful.
“Do you have an appointment?” she inquired, Al imagined it was likely for the hundredth time that day given the hour.
“Yes,” he replied, slightly winded, “the name is Al Loste. I was scheduled for 8am today, but… I mentioned over the phone my condition…” Al trailed off, he always got nervous when mentioning his condition. The receptionist glanced at the clock on the wall with a raised eyebrow, but managed to hide any further evidence of her shock. He was getting used to it. After two decades dealing with his condition it was bound to happen eventually. He watched as she picked up the phone and informed the doctor of his arrival. Al had been to numerous doctors from physicians to psychiatrists to try and fix his condition, but they all insisted there was nothing wrong with him. There was simply no reason for his issue. A door to his left opened and a portly man stepped out.
“Good evening, Mr. Loste,” he greeted warmly. “I’m glad you finally got here.” Al followed the man into his office. “Now, according to your phone call earlier this week, you say you have trouble getting to places on time.”
“Yes, for as long as I can remember I’ve never been able to get anywhere on time.”
“A frustrating issue to be sure.” The man scribbled in a notebook. “What causes the delay?” Al shifted uncomfortably and mumbled his answer. He saw the man raise an eyebrow and he repeated himself.
“I get lost.”
“Every time?”
“Yes.” More scribbles. Al wondered why they always seemed to scribble endless information then tell him there was nothing wrong. Suddenly, the man stopped and looked up.
“Mr. Loste, what is your full name? The form I have only has your middle initial listed.”
“Al Wayzz Loste,” Al replied. “Wayzz was my great grandfather’s name.” Al saw the man nod and smile.
“Have you considered changing your name?” Al was surprised. His name? Would that really help? It certainly was more than the other doctors had suggested.
Five years later, Mr. Loste returned to the office. The same receptionist was there.
“My daughter has an appointment,” he told her.
“Your daughter’s name?”
“Hope,” he replied, “Hope Leslie Loste.” Al thought he heard a groan and thunk come from behind the door to his left, but wasn’t sure.
I hope you enjoyed this punderful story. We are often told names have power, that the right name can impact one’s future almost as strongly as our physical attributes and skills. What if that were true to the extent the wrong one could result in the above issues? What is the strangest name you’ve encountered? Share your name-based tales in the comments!
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