I think the anti-personal American business culture has affected us physiologically; namely when it comes to our memories. I am always cheerfully impressed when I drag my bag of laundry over to the lavadaría and the guy working there (the lavador?) writes "Nicolas" on my claim slip without even having to ask. I only stop by once every two, sometimes three weeks, so it's not as if I'd really expect him to know me by name. But he deals with me enough that I suppose I shouldn't be surprised.
The shock came Monday when I stuffed my bag full of ridiculously dirty clothes (pants in particular I try to get a lot of use out of) and trekked the two blocks to the place, only to find that my usual guy wasn't there. It was another guy, who I vaguely recognized but hadn't seen in at least three months. And true enough, he didn't just fill out the claim slip without asking. He said, "Nicolas, ¿sí?" Maybe I'm amazed by the way you remember my name all the time.
I like to think I'm becoming better at remembering names, too. For example, "the hot dog guy," who Seb and I long ago named "Joey," is actually named Alejandro. But since I don't actually like the other two Alejandros I know here in Xalapa (my host brother in Cuernavaca isn't bad), I'll stick with Joey.
1 comment:
its always nice a suprise when others remember your name, it gives you a sense of importance. But I can understand the trouble of not remembering names, I mean for the longest time I referred to you as Johnny...yeah..
Post a Comment