I just got off the phone with my Wells Fargo branch in El Centro, and after being put on hold, had to hang up because I couldn't stop laughing. The woman who answered the phone said, "GoodafternoonthankyouforcallingWellsFargothisisGriseldaspeakinghowmayIhelpyou."
Normally I wouldn't find anything about this particularly humorous, but her name struck me as familiar and immediately I knew why. It reminded me of sitting at the Starbucks on campus one morning, reading a book or something, when I was approached by a man who addressed me by that very name. As in, "Griselda? How are you?" In moments like these (because believe it or not I've had a few of them) there is always a split second where I am frozen, confused.
I started doing this at my job, but found it problematic when I'd have customers return and ask for me by name.
"The man in the business suit is back, and he wants to speak with Demitria about the charge-send to Boston."
"Tell him she's on her lunch break."
It works better in crowded places with strangers, who you won't ever see again and even so, won't ever remember your name much less which Parisian fashion designer you are currently apprenticing.
"Merchandising team, huh? You girls come here often? Let me get your numbers so I can put you on my guest list every Moday at [insert obscure venue]."
"I'm Griselda and this is Kastja. With a K. We're sisters so you can just put us under one number."
That one number was almost never fake but almost always belonged to Gisele Schaaf, to whom I would otherwise use this sentence as a direct apology, but she gives my phone number out to creepers like candy.
Your wingman can make you or break you, so if you want free drinks, I suggest investing in a qualified manipulatress. Mimi Dessert, for example, the only person I know who can sell such an elaborately fake background so well that no more than two douchebags per night per bar need be convinced of our exotic heritage in order for us to score free cocktails all night.
"Of course. That explains the accent. Two more tonics for the Austrian twins!"
But right now Griselda is frozen and slightly panicked, wondering whether or not this guy is going to question me as to why I'm sitting at the UC Irvine Starbucks when I'm supposed to be vaccinating impoverished West African infants, or touring East Asian provinces with the Royal Viennese Theatre of Ballet Corps. Vienna is Austria right?
"Griselda! I hardly recognized you without your sister attached to your hip. Is she still across the pond doing the lobbyist thing?"
Of which pond he is referring to, I know not. I don't even know what a lobbyist is.
So I look up and smile. Without missing a beat, I nod, simultaneously turning my grande latte cup so that my name faces me (incidentally reading, Chloe, with the two dots above the O and an accent on the E).
