That’s not my name: Why someone’s name can mean everything
“I’m so sorry. What’s your name, again?” Randy asked.
“Oh, it’s Ren. But it’s ok, I haven’t been here much”, she explained.
“I’ll never forget. Wren, like the bird”
“Oh, it’s R-E-N like Ren and Stimpy.”
“Now I really won’t forget.”
Randy, at the Peekskill Coffeehouse, makes a point to know your name. In return, we all know his. He greets you with a nod and in many cases, has memorized your order. His charisma and warmth, (and stellar musical taste) is part of why I always come to Peekskill Coffee to write every Sunday morning.
Ren will become a regular now. Mark my word. And Randy will never forget her name.
It feels so special when people know your name. Part of living in a small town like Peekskill is being where people not only know your name, but you know everyone else’s. Nancy is my friend at the deli. Jeorgia runs Quirk Shop. I can name almost the entire staff of Whiskey River, Birdsall House, and Gleason’s, because I make it a point to try and learn everyone’s name. I want to make people feel as special as they make me feel.
Names are important.
Recently, I received a hotel reservation for Veronica Cairl. Ever the fan of Archie comic…