On what's in a name...

I know I've blogged before about the challenges of my first name. How many presume it to be a man's name and, in turn, I get all sorts of e-mail with the greeting Dear Mr. .... Whenever I've e-mailed candidates who've applied to jobs in our office, inviting them in for an interview, more often than not they call our main office line to ask "Um, I know this is odd, but is this person a man or a woman?!"

Just when I think I'm used to it, and that it's actually kind of funny (truly, it is), I get frustrated again.

As I checked into my hotel last night, the woman asked for my last name. She then wanted to confirm my first name.

"Christian?"

"No, Cristan, actually, but it's a common mistake." I smiled it off.

"Ah, is that your husband's name?"

You know that scene in Mean Girls when Lindsay Lohan talks about how something would be handled in the wild? And, suddenly, all the mean girls and their cronies begin attacking each other like monkeys?

No, I didn't do that. But I thought about it.

When I called to order my dinner last night, it happened again. "Good evening Mr. or Mrs. ... How can I help you?"

Sigh.

It's the assuming my name is male AND assuming I'm married that doesn't work for me, I guess. If it happens anywhere, it usually is in the Midwest. And, in the grand scheme of things, it's not a big deal at all. It's just when I've gotten off a 4 hour flight, been treated like a fool by a cabbie, taken a long taxi ride to the middle of nowhere that I get on my "accomplished woman I don't need no husband" high horse. Don't worry.. I'm climbing down right now.