Coffee Names

I was in the car this summer when I heard a National Public Radio interview with Shefali Kulkarni, the writer of a Village Voice blog post about "coffee names." A coffee name is a name you give the barista which is not your own. Often customers give these names because they are easier for people to say and to spell. Kulkarni (coffee moniker: Sheila) developed her coffee name because baristas struggled with Shefali. She noticed that many of the names baristas write on coffee cups are very "American" but don't seem to match the customers waiting for their coffees.

Both the interview and the post made me laugh. Kulkarni suggests that coffee customers have trouble because of the non-Americaness of their names ( e.g., "Chandani" or "Virginie"). It's a question of perspective. I've always had trouble with my name, but never thought that it had anything to do with Americaness. I see myself as the quintessential American: my African ancestors have been here since the 1700s, while the Native American ones have been here even longer.

Today I'm blogging about coffee names because of a recent experience using my own fake name.

My thesis is that the people in our everyday lives simply don't listen well. My name is pronounced exactly as it is spelled. I make a point of enunciating and speaking slowly when I give my name. And yet, over the years I've been called Darcy (a lot) and Darlene (ditto). Less frequently I've been referred to as Charlene, Francine and sometimes Shireen. In the last case, my friend Shireen was often called Darcine, so maybe that example cancels itself out. I have nothing against these names, but I find it embarrassing. I don't feel like a Darlene, for instance, and don't want to be out in the world inhabiting someone else's skin.

I use my last name when I order coffee. I get a lot of strange looks, as baristas then seem to wonder whether I'm really a man who looks like a woman. Or maybe I'm a woman who's in the process of becoming a man, or some other permutation thereof. You sometimes have to have nerves of steel in the coffee world. I ignore the looks of inquiry and puzzlement. Coffee servers have even questioned the name that I give them, as though I might have inadvertently made a mistake. Shefali Kulkarni writes that some customers in New York give names like "Batman." If people can't handle Thomas, I'm curious to know how they'd respond if I said "Wonder Woman." That's an experiment for another time, perhaps.

But inconveniences at the coffee bar are not the reason that I've had a fake name since high school. I remember the exact moment that I created my fake name. I was walking to the beach with one of my friends. In those days, high school boys in the summer liked to talk to the girls as they passed by (or as the boys passed by on their bikes).

One of the first questions was "What's your name?". This was a situation potentially fraught with peril. In high school I felt that names had an almost magical power and denoted intimacy. I wasn't sure that I wanted just anyone knowing my name.

On the other hand, I instinctively knew that for boys it wasn't really about knowing your name. It was about getting the name. And I had begun to suspect that high school boys had fragile egos. In that moment, I had a stroke of brilliance. I replied that my name was "X,"  a common, one syllable name. (You didn't think that I was going to give away my fake name, did you?) All agendas were satisfied and everyone was happy.

I've used my fake name when appropriate ever since, although never to get coffee. My fake name strategy only let me down once while I was in college. One summer vacation I had an internship and house sat with a girlfriend. Weekends were for going out and meeting other kids also doing the intern thing.

On one of those summer nights I met a guy while we were at a club. I wasn't sure about his status. Did I want him to call me? So I gave him my fake name. Much dancing and conversing later, I decided that I liked him and gave him my number. So far so good. It was going to be just like in those TV shows when everyone in the house knows to say yes, Susie Q lives here, when they get that call. My girlfriend was prepped and ready.

Yet life does not always occur in the way that we'd expect. The owner of the house paid us a surprise visit the next day. She planned to stay the rest of the weekend. We went out for the day. Upon our return, she told us that a man kept calling asking for X. Apparently the telephone had begun to ring in the early afternoon. "Really?" we commented, "How strange."

In a variation of "Groundhog Day," we heard the phone ring, watched her pick it up, heard her say "What?! Who?! Wrong number!" And then we heard the phone slam down. I never did get together with that dashing young man.

The other day, taking a food truck break during an Art Walk, I used my fake name on a whim when I ordered. This inspired my friend to also use a fake name. Her problem was that when that name was called, she didn't know to respond. I had to remind her. Early training always does tell.

 

Comments

[Myrna]

HAHAHAHA! I too have a fake name. Haven't used it in years though.

-Myrna

[Gavril (real name)]

HAHA awesome Darcine...

I love my fake names and I use them all the time, some of my favorites are
Thomas Jefferson
whak amole
hank
hollywood
renaldo
I especially like going to the same place several times and giving a different name each time, after a while they are like " ok who are you today?"

[Darcine Thomas]

It turns out that the Fake Name Fellowship is more widespread than I thought! Thanks for reading.

[Darcine Thomas]

And Gavril, you put a whole new spin on it! I love the breadth of your names. I may have to develop more fake names -- I love the concept of "Who are you today?".

[Redbeard]

At least no one ever called you "Redbone."

[Darcine Thomas]

! Indeed.