It always amazes me what turns out to be a major nerve cluster amindst the readership. Quite a few emails like this:
At long last you’ve posted on a topic I actually know about. I have a huge chip on my shoulder about being called “Dave”. It’s not my name. It’s David, thankyouverymuch. There’s something presumptuous when I’m introduced to someone and they immediately decide they don’t like my name and use an alternate.
I know, it’s silly. Maybe it’s all due to a friend who signed my high school yearbook over 20 years ago, “Dear Dave… well you’re really not a Dave. Daves are balding, wear bermuda shorts, and sweat a lot…” That kind of imagery sticks with you through the years!
In college, I was so adamant about it, some took to just calling me “Id”. That had its own ramifications, but at least it emphasized the fact that I get to define my own name, my own identity. Yes, I know: silly, again.
davID [last name withheld]