My name is Yasmere. That means my name resides comfortably in the “unique” category. All of us with uncommon names can verify: it’s certainly a fun experience. From my personal viewpoint, having an uncommon name presents its own set of amusing circumstantial problems, including (but not limited to) these:
1. Never finding your name on those cute little faux vanity license plates (or keychains, or pens, or cups).
When you go on a vacation, don’t expect to find a tacky souvenir item with your name on it. It won’t be there. However, because you’re just a masochist, you’re going to sift through the items inscribed with names like Jessica, Ashley, and Matthew, and cry inside. Sure, you could get a souvenir customized with your name on it, but it’d be pretty cool for it to be conveniently pre-made.
2. Substitute teachers will never be able to pronounce it.
Substitute teachers are generally notorious for their inability to pronounce names. Throw a unique name into the mix, and you’ve got a recipe for disaster. You didn’t even know that a human being could conceive that pronunciation by looking at the letters on the roster. What’s even sadder is that you know exactly who they’re trying to refer to, so when they call for “Yazmurray” instead of Yasmere (pronounced Yaz-meer), you raise your hand.
3. Actually, no one will be able to pronounce it at first.
When meeting a new person, mentally prepare to repeat your name several times. First, you’ll introduce yourself. They’ll pronounce it incorrectly in an inquisitive tone. Repeat this process at least one more time. (In my experience, older people will need you to do this dance a few more times.) Watch them smile uncertainly and say, “That’s a beautiful name.” Say thank you, and realize that they will probably call you Yasmin when you see them again in a couple of minutes.
4. Don’t even expect anyone to spell it correctly.
If you didn’t think anyone could say your name, then they certainly won’t be able spell it.
Anecdote: In fifth grade, my teacher told us that we could earn extra credit points if we could spell a certain student’s name. Of course, the teacher threw every student for a loop by choosing my name. As the lucky student who got to be the grader of the tests, I was amused by the many different ways my classmates tried to forge a phonetic clone for “Yasmere.” Among my favorites were “Yazzmiir,” “Yas-meir,” and “Jasmeer.” (I never know where the “J” comes from, but whatever.)
5. Deference to more familiar names that are totally wrong.
This can happen both on the part of the person with the rare moniker, and the person hearing that particular name for the first time. When a stranger hears a name like “Yasmere,” their brain files it into the schema of “Jasmine,” “Yasmin,” or another name that seems more familiar to them. I suppose this makes it easier for them, but it certainly makes it more awkward for the people whose names are being replaced.
Anecdote: During AP testing at my school, one of the counselors handed my friend a test to pass down the row. She said, “Pass this to Jasmine.” My friend handed me the test with the same instructions. I looked down the line of seats, but there was no one named Jasmine sitting there. I stared dumbfounded at the test in my hand and said, “I’m Jasmine?” The counselor had known me for two years.
To be fair, the person with the unique name may revert to a more “normal” alias to spare themselves the tedium of the whole introduction process (see problem #3). This comes in handy at restaurants, or Starbucks joints. (The downside, of course, is that you’re stuck staring blankly at the barista who’s calling for Jasmin. Five minutes later you’ll think, “Oh, that’s me!” and sheepishly grab your coffee and run.)
6. Don't even get me started on the rhyming nicknames.
Oh haha, Cashmere Yasmere. I've never heard that one before.
Of course, I love my name, and these little problems are nothing more than minor inconveniences in the grand scheme of things. Regardless, they make life a little more interesting for those of us with distinctive designations.
