Call me Wayne. Please

Kenneth Wayne Riley has articulated well the bane (or at least an irritant) of my existence—even though it comes after my first name, my second name is still a name. Wayne.

I’m sure this is problem for all the folks who happen to go by their middle name, but it seems particularly problematic when, as an ex-pat, every form I sign requires me to list my name exactly as is appears on my passport. So it’s “Welcome Eddie” when I sign on to expedia.ca to buy airline tickets, “Hello Eddie” at the bank, etc.

Thanks to (Kenneth) Wayne Riley for sharing my pain (and articulating it so well).

The Globe and Mail
Facts & Arguments: THE ESSAY

Call me Wayne. Please
Even though it comes after my first name, my second name is still a name. Wayne. It means wagon maker

WAYNE RILEY

June 18, 2007

When I was a kid, Clint Eastwood was the Man with No Name. You would think that would be a problem, having no name, but in the Italian wild west nobody really seemed to be too hung up about it.

I am the Man With the Middle Name. I’m beginning to believe that is worse than having no name at all. It’s not that I have no identity. I just usually have the wrong identity.

My name is Kenneth Wayne Riley. I go by Wayne. You wouldn’t think that would be a problem. Even though it comes after my first name, my second name is still a name. Wayne. It means wagon maker. I looked it up.

But on certificates, notices that I’ve won a million dollars, unsolicited return-address stickers and almost anything else that has a name on it, I’m Kenneth Riley.
Print Edition – Section Front

Section L Front Enlarge Image
The Globe and Mail

In today’s world, everyone is on a first-name basis.

Over time, I’ve learned to adapt. I’ve trained myself to stand up in waiting rooms when someone calls for Kenneth.

I give money to charities asking for Kenneth’s help.

I sign for Kenneth’s parcels.

As you can see, I live under an assumed name.

Not that I’ve given up.

When I fill out a form, and they ask for my first and middle name, I always underline Wayne, sometimes twice. It never seems to help. Usually, the people who devise these forms don’t even want to know my middle name. In the line of little boxes across the top, they will ask for my first and last name and my middle initial.

I always draw a line out from the box for my middle initial and spell out Wayne. That doesn’t help either. Computers do not like people thinking outside the box.

I asked my mom once why, if she liked Wayne more than Kenneth, she didn’t simply name me Wayne Kenneth Riley.

“I just thought Kenneth Wayne sounded better,” she said.

It was much simpler as a kid. There were no computer forms to fill out, no mailing lists to be on, no telemarketers calling me at home. People either knew my name or asked me what my name was.

Sure, there were some other names along the way, like Stretch and Wiener and … well, just go to the thesaurus and look up other words for skinny. But Kenneth stayed nicely tucked in the background.

I don’t even remember exactly when Kenneth Riley came to life. It was around the time I started getting identification and credit cards. One day I looked in my wallet and realized that it belonged to a spy who didn’t like to stray too far in the alias department. There were cards for K. Wayne Riley, Kenneth W. Riley, Kenneth Riley and Wayne Riley.

And what’s with the Kenneth anyway? It’s awfully formal. If you are going to write to tell me that I’ve won an instant prize of a million dollars in a contest I didn’t even know about, hey, call me Ken.

Of course, being a little unique has its fun side, too.

I love it when my insurance agent, who has looked at my computer file while I’m in the waiting room, comes out with great familiarity, pumps my hand, and says, “Great to see you again, Kenneth.”

And this is after I’ve corrected him the past 12 years.

But one recent incident left me feeling like I had a split personality.

I have medical coverage that allows me to get a chunk of my medical expenses back when I submit a claim.

In this particular instance, when I opened what I thought would be a cheque from the insurance company, it turned out to be a note saying that my claim had been turned down.

I phoned to find out why. I gave the person at the other end of the line my coverage number and he reviewed my computer file.

“Wayne Riley doesn’t have a plan with us,” he said.

“But I’m Wayne Riley,” I said.

“The file name for this plan is Kenneth Riley,” he said.

“I’m Kenneth Riley,” I said, and quickly added, afraid that this was going to become an Abbott and Costello routine, “and Wayne Riley, too. Kenneth Wayne Riley.”

I eventually got the cheque but I know that guy on the other end of the line thought I was trying to pull a fast one.

I was talking about this stuff to a friend of mine one day and she laughed at me.

“You want me to have sympathy for you? I have five names and I go by my third. Talk to me about identity crisis.”

Another friend asked me the obvious question.

“Why prolong the headache?” he asked. Why don’t you just fill out the form as Wayne Kenneth Riley or Wayne K. Riley.

I shrugged.

“I just think it sounds better the other way.”

Wayne Riley lives in York, PEI. So does Kenneth Riley