Few people on earth forget names as readily as I do. For me to remember anyone’s name, I need to say it regularly and ideally see it printed somewhere. I will put myself in the habit of saying hello and thanking people by name day after day purely to force myself to keep a name close at hand. This is probably why baristas and gym trainers tend to like me, I use them to train my memory through gratitude.
I will often end up reintroducing myself to someone who has told me a name before. It is not so embarrassing when I do not remember the person well, but when it is someone I have interacted with over time, it is the height of awkwardness. But one of the advantages of growing older is that people begin to expect forgetfulness from you, even if mine is limited to a few blind spots.
Giving names is something I enjoy at times—such as naming my children or headlines for a story. Some things, however, I can’t stand to give a name. Movies and books deserve titles, but speeches do not. It is an orator’s duty to engage you and make you pay attention through a couple thousand words. They should all have meaning, not just a few on a screen at the start.
When forced to give a speech a title, I enjoy subverting the request and taking the speech far away from the expectations. Perhaps that’s what we should do with all names, make them so absurd and unexpected that no one would dare forget.