Please Allow Me to Complain

Recently, I've gotten myself into a situation where my name is being frequently called out by those who have never met me and, hence, haven't attempted to pronounce my glorious moniker. It's not a difficult name: short, fairly Germanic sounding, no umlauts, and it rolls off the tongue pretty nicely, if you ask me. But for some reason, nobody can ever seem to get it right.

Sometimes it works out well for me. Often the phone will ring and I'll pick it up to hear, "Yes, is Slurry Brita there?" Click. Call over. I don't want what they're selling.

Other times, like in the context of beginning my first, wait, third advanced degree, it can get a little irritating. The other day, I was in a room full of Polish, Lithuanian, and Laotian students and some lady was handing out our folders, flawlessly pronouncing each name as she handed them their orientation folders. But when she got to me, she was all, "Slurry, uhhhhhh. Hmmmmmm. Now that's sure a strange, stupid, unpronounceable name. Oh, hell, I'm not EVEN going to try. Here's your goddamn folder, you asshole. Now get out of my sight." Before I knew it, I was getting the Stink Eye from just about everyone in the room. When I was on my way out of the building, some jocks grabbed me, gave me swirly and the worst purple nurple I've ever had.

It's tough being me.