What’s In a Name, Anyway, Dude?

I’m thinking:

“What’s your name?”

No, I’m not talking about that old song. Literally, I’m thinking, “What’s your name?”

Sure, I know we just met, and you said your name when we were introduced. However, in the nanosecond since our handshake ended, I have forgotten it.

Of course, the easiest thing for me to do would be to ask your name again, but I will not do this because:

One, it would be embarrassing.

Two, there is no guarantee I will remember it the second time around.

Which means I must now spend the rest of the evening--if not the rest of my life--avoiding circumstances and situations in which I will be called upon to know your name.

Like now, when a third person walks over and joins us.

Granted, this is an excellent opportunity to admit I have forgotten your name as I introduce the two of you.

But I will not take this approach. Instead, I will play the social moron and fail to make any introductions, thereby forcing the two of you to do it yourself.

If I am having a particularly good day, I will use this awkward moment to catch your name the second time around.

If I am having a normal day, I will catch your name--and promptly forget it again.

Some people repeat a person’s name when they are introduced to help them remember it.

This does not work for me. This is because whenever I try to repeat a person’s name, the chances are better than 50-50 that I will utter the wrong name.

Another technique that’s supposed to work involves the use of memory tricks such as association. So, for example, if you meet someone named Baker, you might picture him with a chef’s hat on. That way, the next time you meet him, you will connect his face with a chef’s hat, which will lead you to Baker.

Or you can try and associate a prominent physical characteristic to a name.

I used to do this. I don’t anymore. I can’t remember the exact incident, but I think it was when I introduced Chet Goiter to Helen Cleavage.

Actually, the only device I have had any luck at all with over the years is “the mumble.” Deftly executed, the mumble can be as effective as a photographic memory. The mumble has two key components: The mumble itself, which is always low and fast, and the accompanying salutation, which is always high and slow. Hence: Hey, achoo-do-be-do, how the heck have you been?

A variation of the mumble is the all-encompassing appellation. This includes such greetings as Sport, Ace and Hombre.

Young people routinely take the all-encompassing appellation to the professional level:

“Dude, what’s happening, Dude?”

“Dude, nothing, Dude.”

“Who’s the dude with you, Dude?”

“Oh, sorry, Dude. Dude, this is Dude.”

Dude, I could definitely work with Dude.