When I was a little kid there was this joke/game my mother taught me. When someone said, “Hi, what’s your name?” One would respond with, “Puddintane. Ask me again and I’ll tell you the same.”
It was utterly nonsensical, but absolutely hilarious to a pre-schooler. It is possible that I played it way too much.
I’m that person, the one that forgets your name about five seconds after you have told me. Now, if I see it written, that’s a whole different story, but you can tell me your name half a dozen times, and odds are pretty good I’ll still forget it. I can summarize the entire conversation and describe what you looked like. But your name? Nope. Error. File not found.
I try. I really do. I attempt to relate the person to someone or something I know. You know what the problem with that is? I then think, hmm, this person was like someone and uhhhh… I space out trying to remember who I had connected them to, while also trying to follow the conversation.
It’s embarrassing. There’s only so many times one can say, “I’m so sorry, I’m bad with names. What was yours again?” before it becomes ridiculous. I’m clueless about a number of people who work in my department, whom I’ve seen on a decently regular basis for six years. On the way into work one day, a gentleman that I had maybe one conversation with greeted me by name. Had my life depended on it, I wouldn’t have been able to cough up a name.
Error. Error. File not found.
If words are my superpower, names are my Kryptonite.