Sam I am Not!
A little while ago I was in the bank sorting out a few things and had the displeasure of dealing with a real twat. It wasn't that he wasn't good at his job; in fact he was efficient and concise but far too familiar for my taste. When I worked in a bank we were taught to always address our clients by their surnames unless otherwise directed by themselves, to never ask personal questions that did not have any relevance to their requests and to never assume we knew them well just because we’ve served them a few times before. This numb nut I was cursed with obviously missed those sessions when he started on his post. He started off well enough with a greeting and an offer to help, but one look at my passport and he was off: “Do you have your account or customer number with you please SAM?” The hairs on the back of my neck are standing to attention. Now, now calm yourself it’s a common enough occurrence for it to be innocent! So I gently correct him and hand over my card, he smiles and I foolishly thought he’d got the message when he rested his elbow on the counter and his head in his hand and ask what exactly it was he could help me with today “SAM?” my response was to call me Samantha for a start and then to blah, blah, blah! That didn’t work either because then it went on with: “Your address please SAM... what amount SAM... how do you spell your surname again SAM” Yes ten minutes into the interview I was seething and must’ve been physically red in the face. Is it really possible that this twat can be so dense as to not get the message? I choose to believe he was getting some sort of evil pleasure out of making me seethe with anger at having my preference about how I am addressed ignore, no one is that dense surely.
I can count on one hand the people in my life that call me “Sam,” these are friends who I have known for many years and who when first meeting me never assumed to abbreviate my name until they had taken the time to get to know me. These are also friends who have never been able to get used to calling me “Mantha” or outright told me that as they are the only ones that call me “Sam” they shall continue to do so regardless. I don’t like to be called “Sam” but these few friends get away with it because it was something that naturally occurred over the course of our developing friendship like a nickname unique to that one person and not a short version of a long name. My entire family call me “Mantha” and in fact would not have a clue who “Sam” was if anyone referred to me as such. Apart from those privileged few most of my friends call me” Mantha” there are the exception who have latch onto the nicknamed “Polly” which was coined by the Mauritian not long after we got married. My name is not “Sam” it never has been and never will be, so don’t call me that I don’t like it.
Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t dislike the name Sam, I in fact share my name with two other friends and I call them “Sam,” the difference is they don’t mind the abbreviation, I do! I never greet a complete stranger by anything other than their full name until I have gotten to know something about them and their likes and dislikes. I expect those people to show me the same courtesy and get to know something about me first. If they do bother to take the time one of the first things they learn about me is that I don’t like to be called “Sam.” I especially don’t like it when I’m in a bank either as client or staff and a complete stranger says: “Good day Sam!” Grrrrrr... Not any more it aint mate!
Call me “Sammy,” “Sammy Joe,” “Samsam,” hell even “Sambo” will be okay. Just don’t call me “Sam!” My name is not “Sam” I don’t like it and it don’t suit me.
You get the message now?
I can count on one hand the people in my life that call me “Sam,” these are friends who I have known for many years and who when first meeting me never assumed to abbreviate my name until they had taken the time to get to know me. These are also friends who have never been able to get used to calling me “Mantha” or outright told me that as they are the only ones that call me “Sam” they shall continue to do so regardless. I don’t like to be called “Sam” but these few friends get away with it because it was something that naturally occurred over the course of our developing friendship like a nickname unique to that one person and not a short version of a long name. My entire family call me “Mantha” and in fact would not have a clue who “Sam” was if anyone referred to me as such. Apart from those privileged few most of my friends call me” Mantha” there are the exception who have latch onto the nicknamed “Polly” which was coined by the Mauritian not long after we got married. My name is not “Sam” it never has been and never will be, so don’t call me that I don’t like it.
Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t dislike the name Sam, I in fact share my name with two other friends and I call them “Sam,” the difference is they don’t mind the abbreviation, I do! I never greet a complete stranger by anything other than their full name until I have gotten to know something about them and their likes and dislikes. I expect those people to show me the same courtesy and get to know something about me first. If they do bother to take the time one of the first things they learn about me is that I don’t like to be called “Sam.” I especially don’t like it when I’m in a bank either as client or staff and a complete stranger says: “Good day Sam!” Grrrrrr... Not any more it aint mate!
Call me “Sammy,” “Sammy Joe,” “Samsam,” hell even “Sambo” will be okay. Just don’t call me “Sam!” My name is not “Sam” I don’t like it and it don’t suit me.
You get the message now?
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