Hi! My name is Ingrid Abrams. Even though my last name is only six letters long (two of which are the same), no one can spell it. It’s true.
I’ve been living in this building for two years. There are only two other apartments in this building, so my landlord doesn’t have a lot of tenants to keep up with. He put up new mailbox stickers the other day, so I was greeted with this:
Who’s this bitch Ingrid Adams?
Again, I’ve been here two years. My name is spelled correctly on the lease, not to mention on the doorbell just a couple of feet away.
This is not the first time this has happened to me. In middle school, I had an appointment with a guidance counselor or dean of students or something. He’s looking over my files and asks me if I’m related to another classmate, Mike Abramson. “No,” I said, “because my last name isn’t Abramson.” The dean looked at me expectantly and waited. “No, sir. We’re not related.”
I was a classical musician in college. I had some sort of solo and my name was on the front page of the program, big as can be, as Ingrid Anderson. Anderson. That’s not even really close.
All my mail from ALA is addressed to Ingrid Abrahams, even though all my online information is spelled correctly. Telemarketers like to call me Mrs. Abraham. Luckily, Mrs. Abraham is never, ever home.
I’m not even going to go into how my middle name is Henny, yet at every graduation I’ve attended (middle school, high school, college and grad school), I’ve been announced as Ingrid HENRY Abrams.
I don’t think it’s an inability to read or bad spelling. I think people are really lazy readers, never paying quite enough attention to what they’re looking at. I don’t know if more trips to the library or less TV or computer time would fix this, but I wish it would. It’s really starting to piss me off.
~Love and Libraries, Ingrid Abrams