My irritation level has soared as high as my plane over the past three days. I can normally tell within 30 seconds whether or not I can stand someone, and while my partner is nice enough, he keeps calling me Matthew. This despite introducing myself as Matt, to him and everyone we've both met. This tells me he hasn't been paying attention to anything, but is reading my ID badge.
I thought I had it licked when the flight attendant, who calls me Matt, yelled 'Matthew' to get my attention. The ID reader commented, "You said that like you really know him."
Aha! An opening.
"Actually," I said. "People who really know me call me Matt."
No effect. Frustrating, but I may be to blame. After all, I once had a neighbor who called me Dwayne for two years. After a while, there's no correcting it without making yourself look like an idiot.
Alas, this trip ends tomorrow. No more Matthew. No more bad jokes or spoken word renditions of obscure songs. And for dinner tonight, Big Boy.
Now, I'm very excited about Big Boy. It's one of those things you take for granted until you move across the country and can't get it anymore. And it's right next to the hotel.
But he says, "We don't have to decide right now, We'll figure it out. We can find someplace nice."
He can do what wants.
Matthew's going to Big Boy.