What assumptions do people make about you?

There’s something about the name “William” that draws people to giving me nicknames. “Bill”, “Billy”, “Will”, and “Liam” are all common ones I’ve been called before. This phenomenon is most commonly done by the more outgoing people I meet, but I’ve been called different names so many times I don’t quite know how to categorize it. People assume they can make instant friends with me by trying to be “casual” and “cool” by using a nickname. I hate it.

A name is possibly the most “personal” quality that a person can have. In a way, names define us like nothing else can, even if most names aren’t truly unique. A name is a descriptor, a quick definition of who someone is without explanation necessary. I’m also rather attached to my name; a name is one of few constants throughout a person’s life, and I happen to like mine a lot. I’m stuck with it, and I’m happy with it.

Now, to address nicknames. Nicknames are usually reserved for the closest of friends. A friendship takes months or years to fully synthesize. Sure, people make fast friends all the time but nicknames, I believe, are reserved for those who have gotten to know a person well enough they have fully become a part of that person’s life, and thus have earned the right to grant someone a nickname. Nicknames themselves. are formed from collective experiences and the twists and turns of a relationship. By becoming close enough to a person, one gains the ability to give and receive nicknames because you have become such an important piece of that person’s existence. 

All this to say, it annoys me to no end when people give me unwarranted nicknames. It feels like a shortcut or a cheat. Instead of taking the time to actually build a relationship with me and getting to know me personally, they choose the insultingly impersonal path of drawing from the year’s most recent “top 1000 baby names catalog” and choose anything that sounds remotely close to “William”. Not only is it plain aggravating, it also demonstrates just how little the other person cares about me. I can read right through their act of kindness to see their double-cross; in a strange way, I feel lied to or betrayed.

A recent example comes from my boss at work (who, admittedly, kept a sheet of aluminum foil in her pocket between her leg and her phone so that she did not get cancer from the radiation her phone gave off). During my first day, she took the time to ask whether “William” was okay or if I preferred a different name, to which I responded that I wanted to be called by my real name. She proceeded to call me “Will” for the rest of the summer. Needless to say, I was displeased, but I did not want to correct her for fear of ruining our pointless “friendship”. Maybe it says something about her that she was a pretty bad boss and almost universally disliked by her employees, but I digress. Her superficial attempt at a friendship ended up backfiring.

William has been my name since I was born and I will continue to stick with it. Some people may see this as petty and inconsequential complaining about people trying to be “fun” with me, and that’s fine if other people are okay with being called nicknames willy-nilly, but I will stick with my beliefs. My name is my name, and only my most trusted friends should have the freedom to mess with it.

-William King