I'm bad with names

A few weeks ago, I went to get what I thought was a major award with my work. I thought I was all special because I'd been with the college for 20 quarters and that's why I was getting my major award and invited to a dinner. But it turns out, I'm just a baby, someone got 180 quarters. WHAT?

My friend, co-worker, and super fabulous mentor found me and let me sit at her table, introduced me to everyone at the table. I'm a part-timer and don't have an office. So I don't know a lot of people. So, it was good to put some faces to names and meet new people. In the middle of the dinner, a lady showed up and sat at the last chair at our table. I'd already stolen her roll, and someone else had snagged her water. So, we teased her for being late, and finished up eating, then I got my major award. I bantered with the late lady a bit. But I never got her name. So, when the major awards ceremony was over, I asked her what her name was. It turns out she was my boss. And not just any old boss, she was my Dean. Since I'm a part-time instructor, I've actually only met her once in a mad dash with 3-year-old twins in tow (mind you, they are seven now) to drop off some paperwork. That's it. We email each other occasionally, but I'll have to ask her to attach an updated picture, I suppose, because she's nothing like I remember when I galavanted my kids through her office shouting, "It's nice to meet you. DON'T TOUCH THAT!!!" Only slightly more embarassing than that is now, as I re-meet her while receiving my major award. As if to say, "You've been here 20 quarters - that's five years, and you don't know who your boss is. Nice."

I'm bad with names, but I should know my boss. My Dean. It was weird. For me and for her. We made the best of it and they let me keep my major award.

As an instructor, I try to teach my students that you can't just put your flaws out there and then just be okay with that. You've got to know your flaws and overcome them. So, I've been thinking, maybe I should be better with names - trying to work on it.

Then I went to spin class last week at the gym, and started getting my bike ready. It has to be just so - raise the seat and the handles, and then scoot the seat as far back as it'll go. But the seat was torn, and we don't need any chafing up in here, so I moved to another bike, and ended up next to a very familiar man. I tried so hard to place the guy, but just couldn't. I had two options, ask the guy his name, or progressively lose brain cells while gasping for oxygen and try to remember his name. I really wanted to try to remember his name, but then again I have no pride. So, I asked him.

"I recognize you, but just can't place it. What's your name?"

"Oh, I'm Mike. Mike Fahey. What's your name?" Ohhhhhh, yes - THE MAYOR!!! Are you kidding me!? Uggh! To my defense, he's the former mayor by about a year.

"I'm Leslie. And I have a blog!" Okay, not really, Just "I'm Leslie Murrell. It's nice to meet you. Ah yes, well, I'm sorry for not recognizing you immediately. I'm a transplant from Texas."

"Oh, well when did you move here?"

"Uh, five years ago." And then I explained what a great city Omaha is and how much we're enjoying it. I've never been so happy for an instructor to get a class started as I was then.

I've got to get better with names.

That's how I roll.