That’s not my name

My name is not Victoria.  It’s not Vanessa, not Veronica and not Regina.  My name is VIRGINIA.  Virginia, like the state.  V-I-R-G-I-N-I-A.  Three “i’s” and one “a.”  Not that difficult, right?  WRONG!!!

I can not count how many times I have been called so many different names other than my own.  It’s embarrasing, not for the person making the mistake, but for me.  I don’t know why.  If I correct them, they say “I’m sorry” and I am then forced to say, “It’s OK.”  I would much rather do without the correction, although sometimes I do make the effort and go ahead and do it.

The Ting Tings song, “That’s not my name,” has become the anthem to many introductions to people in my life.  Time and time again, I get called “Victoria” and I wish I could just bust into song and shout “they call me quiet, but I’m a riot, Mary, Jo, Lisa, always the same. That’s not my name, that’s not my name, that’s not MY name!”  Unfortunately, I keep my composure and I have even begun to respond to those names.  If someone calls me Veronica, I am OK with it.  Victoria?  That’s OK too.  I have learned to embrace it and just correct them once I get to know them more or if they repeatedly make the mistake after correction number one. 

In the mean time, I will rock out to the song and secretly think that they wrote the song especially for me.