What's in a Name?

In the mid-80's, I worked for a computer software company. We had one particular customer who was difficult. Ok, really, he was a pain in certain parts of the anatomy that shall remain nameless. He was always trying to get free product, and no-one wanted to deal with him. The salesman, the techs, the owner of the company were always in meetings or out of the office - even if it meant they had to step out onto the sidewalk - when he called. So, we foisted him off on a temp that was brought in at one point. She was very nice, very sweet, and very temporary. So, when he called back several weeks later, he asked for Pam, and was told that she had been a temp. I helped him as best I could, telling him that I would give the salesman his message, that I was sorry, all I could do was give him the message, that I understood his frustration, that the techs were not available...and he told me how helpful I had been, could he have my name? I don't know why, I don't know where it came from - but I told him my name was Nancy. The office manager turned around and gave me an odd look. When I hung up, I told her who I'd been talking to, she just busted out laughing, understanding why I had not given him my name.

Fast forward about six weeks, to his next call. I had just given 2 weeks notice. When the office manager answered the phone, she put the call on hold and started cracking up. We all kind of looked at each other, waiting to find out what was going on. She caught her breath, looked at me, and said, "Oh, Nancy, this call is for you." I picked up the phone, gave my real name, and told him that Nancy was no longer with the company - and heard him sigh. He went through his whole litany of reasons he HAD to talk to the salesman or tech, listened to my whole litany of reasons why he couldn't - and, at the end of it all told me how he was glad that he had been able to speak to me, and could he have my name. I told him my name is Connie - but it wouldn't do him good, as I was leaving the company. He asked how bad the company was to work for, that Pam and Nancy and I had all left - I told him that Pam had been a temp, that Nancy was a flake and we had to let her go ;) and that I had just decided to move on to another industry, that the company was a good company and that I was SURE that whoever they hired would be very helpful.

Why am I telling you all this? Well, this past weekend poetic justice hit.

This past weekend Hal and I were at the Penn West Conference of the UCC Annual Meeting. At one point, all new pastors were introduced to the gathering. I was surprised to hear the name "Nancy Garlick" along with Harold Garlick as the new pastors at Meyersdale. Realizing they meant me, I stood up and said "Connie" and heard several other voices say the same. The Conference Minister later apologized for misspeaking.

Odd thing is, this is not the first time this has happened. When Hal and I were first married, within the first month, we had to attend the annual meeting for the Methodist conference where Hal was serving. At the district dinner, his district superintendent introduced "Hal Garlick, and his new wife, Joyce." Hal and I stood up, and Hal said, "This is my new wife Connie. You weren't supposed to tell her about Joyce." Everyone laughed, the D.S. apologized, and we went on with dinner. I later found out that our neighbor in OH was Joyce.

And I won't even mention all the times I was called Constance, which is not my given name (if you must know, Connie is short for Confrontational).

Not a Morning Person

I am not a morning person (and yet, somehow I was up at 7 am today). My husband knew this when we married. That is, he should have known this. After all, I had repeatedly told him. And, well, there was that whole different approach we had to the 8 am classes.

Before we married, Hal would get up from his dorm room (the nights he wasn't back in Ohio), get ready, go down to the student lounge, get coffee, hang out, head to class. I, on the other hand, would roll out of bed in my apartment on the other side of campus, throw on some clothes, pull my hair back into a pony tail, brush my teeth, and - if I had time - make instant coffee to put into my travel mug, and dash across campus to slide into class 2 minutes before it started.

So he should have known.

We married on June 1, 2002. That summer, most of the time he let me sleep in while he got up and puttered around the house, doing pastor stuff like sermon prep and drinking coffee. Especially after one particular morning. I remember it well. He had gotten up, in a good mood, bright eyed and bushy-tailed (a saying which I have never particularly understood) - kissed me good morning, said he loved me, to which I replied "mughlorkingsplat" or something of the like. A little while later (after I had rolled over, pulled the pillow over my head and started snoring again), I felt a vice close around my ankle and this horrible pain on the bottom of my foot. Ok, really, he had just grabbed my ankle and started tickling me. But, well, at that hour of the morning...

Needless to say, more than mughlorkingsplat came out of my mouth. I don't think I said any bad words - but I do remember questioning his sanity and asking him what he thought he was doing as I pulled my poor foot out of his evil clutches. He got a terribly hurt look on his face, and said he was just tickling his bride's foot (he tells me now that on that morning, his beautiful bride was not to be found). Feeling badly, I muttered that I had warned him that I'm not a morning person, that I was sorry, but please leave me alone. I think I said please. I don't know if he remembers it that way or not. If I didn't say those things, though, I meant to. In my defense, it was early. I know that when Hal tells the story, something about evil incarnate overtaking his bride comes into play.

We now have an understanding when it comes to morning. I get up on the mornings that I absolutely have to. The rest of the time, Hal gets up and does what he does quietly. He warns me before he turns the bedroom light on in the morning (otherwise he hears the line from Gremlins: "Bright light! Bright light!"). At times he'll gently kiss me bye when he leaves for the office, otherwise he'll just wait til I get up and call over to the office to say good morning. And I try really hard not to growl - or whatever that voice was that came out of my mouth that morning 8 years ago.