The other day the guy from my office who calls me Allison walked by my desk. Now the receptionist who is usually here is the daughter of the President of the company, so this guy comes up to me and asks,
"Allison, who's daughter are you?"
"I'm no one's daughter," I replied.
Realizing that my last comment sounded ridiculous I corrected myself,
"I mean to say, I'm no one's daughter here, and my name's not Allison."
"What?" He asks incredulous. "It's not?"
"No, it's Laura."
"But I've been calling you Allison all this time."
"yeah".
"Well..." he says slowly, as though pondering this concept, "Have a good weekend...Laura."
For the next several days every time he would walk by my desk he would say with zest and valour,
"Have a good day...Laura." Or "Weather looks great...Laura." He was so proud...so assured, but then something awful happened. Yesterday he walked by my desk saying,
"Good morning Faye."
He hurried away looking a little ashamed of himself, and I believe though he couldn't quite put his finger on it, he knew my name was not Faye. Needless to say, he almost got it right.
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