For some reason, New Yorkers LOVE to shorten my name. At least, about 75% of them do. It’s so interesting.
And, coincidently, they all call me the same name… Liz.
Liz?
I’ve never been a Libby or Liza. Not a Beth or a Bess. And, no, I’ve never been a Liz. In fact, I’ve never had a nickname. My dad wouldn’t let me. He said that Elizabeth is too beautiful to be shortened. Yeah, you read that right. My name is too beau-ti-ful.
Still, introductory conversations in New York often go like this…
“Hi.”
“Hi”
“What’s your name?”
“Elizabeth.”
“Hi, Liz.”
“Oh, no, no. (Laughing politely.) It’s E-liz-a-beth.”
“Ha, sorry about that. No problem, Liz.”
Shoulders deflate. I surrender and from then on respond to “Liz”.
Like everything in New York, Liz is shorter, faster. More efficient. I guess that time is of the essence.
1 comment:
I think it's a Northern thing, not necessarily a NY thing. Every friend I have that was born north of the Mason-Dixon line calls me Jenn. Always. And the odd thing is that it sounds natural. When my KY friends try to call me Jenn it sounds awkward and forced. Freaky.
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