¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡HOOOLLLLLAAA GEENARRRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOO!!!!!!! ¿Como Estaasss? – my coworker says as I walk into his cube. The way the R rolls off his tongue (pun totally intended) is with such emphasis it sounds like a car stuttering to a complete stop. No matter how many times I tell him and countless others in the office, “You don’t roll the R in Genaro”, nobody seems to listen. I have given up on correcting people about how to pronounce my name here.

But is it really too much to ask for people to pronounce my name right? I am fully aware that most people I meet will struggle at first, but they can at least try to sound somewhat close. And no, Gerard does not count as close.

This last Saturday, I went to a dinner/karaoke event with a few friends. My name was put in the basket for karaoke. Three names were to be drawn and the three people drawn would compete for a gift basket based on crowd approval. First name: “RALPH! COME UP ON STAGE!” Ralph sings the baritone version of “Livin’ On a Prayer.” Second name: the host stares at the paper slip for a second too long. I immediately knew my name was pulled, and sure enough, the host announces for “GERARD And-a-low-zuh” and Jeff to come up on stage. We attempt to sing Aretha Franklin’s “RESPECT” and do a major disservice to the song. Aretha would be disappointed with us –we did not give her the little respect she asks for. However, the crowd loves and it becomes the talk of the office space this week.

Monday morning, I went to the courthouse to pay for my ticket (yes, I got a ticket with less than 6 months of having a license. Fuck me, right?). The lady at the counter looks at my ticket, prints out the legal form where I agree to pay the ticket, and sure enough, in the form – Gerard. I ask her to correct the form so I don’t get into legal issues.

Even the Mexico helpdesk says my name incorrectly until I show them I speak Spanish.

I don’t think it’s an unreasonable request to ask somebody whom I will regularly interact with to pronounce my name right. There is something oddly satisfying about hearing somebody say your name right.

A name carries power. A name carries meaning. My name holds the history of my family traced back to my grandfather and great-grandfather who emigrated from Europe in search of a better life to Mexico.

To me, hearing somebody say my name right or at least try to say it right shows two things. One, it is an acknowledgement that I, Genaro, exist for you and you recognize I am more to you than just a fleeting thought. Two, they are willing to put in the time to make sure I feel comfortable in their presence. They are willing to work with me and give me time to become part of their lives, even if it is as brief as an hour or as long as six months.

Last Friday, I met a gentleman by the name of Erwin. I introduced myself to him and surprisingly enough, he got my name right on the first try! I commented that to him, and he looks at me and says, “Man, your name ain’t that hard. Problem is most people don’t even try.”

Why can’t we expect people to at least try to get something as basic as a name right? Something which becomes an inextricable part of you and your identity?

Needless to say, since meeting Erwin, I have raised my expectations.

(aliases have been used for the names in this story to protect the identities of the people involved)