What's in a Name?

Manfriend has a very cool first name. It rhymes with "neato."

We went to a home improvement store on Sunday, in search of a patio set for his house. To his delight, the store was running a sale. He found a cart, grabbed a green table, six matching chairs and three side tables, and we walked up to the cashier.

He paid by credit card. She looked at his name on it, and said, "I really like your name."

"Well, thank you," Manfriend said with a smile.

"Yes," she continued, "because you can be called by that. I can't stand it when people are given a name, and other people shorten it. Makes no sense to me. Like, when someone names their kid Joseph, and they call him Joe..." (She said Joe with a sneer.)

Oooookay, then.

I had to look away, as Manfriend was dumbfounded by the exchange. He recovered nicely. He smiled, politely took his card, wished the cashier a happy Memorial Day weekend, and we walked out with his stash.

As we strolled to the exit, Manfriend whispered out of the side of his mouth, "Yep...it's definitely you!" We both started to laugh.

Tonight, he asked me if this was the same home improvement store I went to where I was accosted with Grandpop spittle. (It was.)

"Why do you keep going there?"