My Name is Mr. Lee

 

Being a fundamentally honest (read, "guilt-ridden") person, my decision to offer "Lee" to waitstaff and counterworkers as my preferred name of commercial exchange took a bit of doing.

Once I got into the groove, though, my subterfuge came easier, breezy even. I felt like a Trump.

I'd grown weary of being misheard and having to answer to names I'd not been given -- "Ruben for Bernie!" "Mocha for Edgar!"

I figured something with fewer syllables than any of my four names (given-, middle-, Confirmation- or sur-) would reduce the chances of miscommunication.

For four or five years now, I've gone with "Lee" -- the modified first part of my middle name -- when asked by Kerri with a "K" and an "i" or D'netri'a of the Abundant Apostrophes "What name should I put on the order?" "Yes, Lee," and being a former editor and fastidious chalkboard teacher, I always spell "L-e-e."

"How else would you spell it," one chirpy coffee-cafe moppet quipped.

"Well, let's see. There's L-i and L-e-i-g-h and L-e-a to start," I offered.

Moppet "tee-heed" and rolled her eyes -- like they do. I moved on.

Most male counterworkers when announcing my order is ready leave it at "Lee," as in Majors, Van Cleef and Daniels. Female counterworkers often add "Mister," perhaps to avoid the appearance of presumptuousness or to discourage any potential stalking behavior from the old guy in the hoodie.

I appreciate the consideration, I suppose. But I wonder if it's intended, as a lot of folks in the South do with older people -- tack a "Mister" or "Miss" in front of the Christian name -- "Mister Bill," "Miss Lucy" -- as part of this region's ritualized courtesy. Reflexive politeness. Faux friendliness?

No matter. It's been a grand, successful experiment so far and I've only had one instance of someone writing "Le" on my ticket. Probably "Cydnee" or "Jazzmyn."