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My Name Is

Darn near everyone who knows me calls me "Sam." It's how I sign emails, it's how I introduce myself to people, and when I hear that name, I look up. That's not actually my first name, though. I was born as a Samuel, and that's the name that shows up on all of my official documents. So why do I go by a different name, you ask? Well, there's a story behind that, folks.

I wasn't born in the United States, and Spanish is my native language. However, I moved here in the middle of what became my kindergarten year, so I had to quickly learn a new language. Still, it took a little bit of time before I picked up the new language. So, for a little while, I was introducing myself as "Samuel," spoken with the accent of a brown person. I don't actually remember doing so, but I'm certain that I must have. That's because my teacher and classmates, bless their hearts, wanted to help me fit in, so they did their level best to try to pronounce my name in the same way that I did. However, their tongues were used to a different language, and, try as they might, they couldn't quite get it right. Given that, I soon took to making it easier for them by shortening my name: by the time middle school rolled around, I was pretty much "Sam" to everyone. The habit stuck, and it's gotten to the point that I can't imagine any of my close friends calling me "Samuel."

Well, that's why I go by the name I do. However, that seems to have undergone a second evolution as of late. I help to do recruiting at work, so I tend to get "thanks for talking to me" emails from folks. It's just one of those professional courtesy things, so I don't usually spend much time thinking about it. This time, though, someone sent one to me thanking me, and then that person sent one to my co-interviewer thanking him "and James" for interviewing him. Apparently my name is James now. The weird part is that when the email was addressed directly to me, it had the correct name.

What's more, that very same weekend, I had brunch with a couple of friends, and one of them casually threw out something along the lines of, "watch, next time you and I are out, I'll text [other friend]. I'm gonna tell [other friend], 'I'm out with Jam' and she's going to immediately ask for the gossip." Yup, this friend calls me "Jam." I don't even remember why it started or the rationale for it, but she's done it enough times that I know that she's referring to me when she says it. Heck, I've actually learned to respond to that name when she's around (Pavlov would be proud).

The really funny thing is that it's not even the first time I've had someone call me "Jam." I once went to an orphanage of sorts in Cambodia, and the English-speaking director emailed my friend and I after the trip was over. That guy also called me "Jam," but I chalked that up to a typo or to the language barrier. Hell, I'd have no idea if I butchered someone's name in Khmer (the local Cambodian language). Still, my friend on that email thought it was hilarious enough that she has also taken to calling me that on occasion. I've always been amused by the whole story, but I never really thought much about it.

Given all of that, though, what are the odds that different people from vastly different parts of the world would call me "James" and "Jam" all within a short span of each other? Slim to none, I'm thinking. Maybe this is a sign; I may have to start going by one of those names instead.

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