I have always struggled with my name. Being hampered with an impossible to spell and confusing to pronounce surname, coupled with the fact that I go by my middle name rather than my first (logic apparently didn’t feature heavily in my parents’ minds when I was being named), and then choose an unusual abbreviation of that (I can’t stand being called Becky – that’s for girly girls) means that most people don’t stand a chance of getting it right. So I was expecting to face the odd problem on arrival in Abu Dhabi, and the problems started as soon as I stepped off the plane.
I was pleasantly surprised to find myself greeted with a sign that read ‘Rebecca Morice’ – every letter present and correct. A good start, and had it not been preceded by ‘Mr’, it would have been a very welcome sight indeed. Unfortunately, the sign bearing my name was also a sign of things to come, and the errors have ranged vastly from understandable through embarrassing and on to just plain ridiculous. It’s possible my slight Welsh accent hinders the communication process somewhat, and leaves me lumbered with such names as Raka Noss (a restaurant booking which resulted in me almost losing my table), Redeka Morris (getting a little closer with that one) and, my personal favourite, Repeller. No last name. A quick ask around the office reveals that I’m not suffering alone, however, with experiences ranging from women being called ‘ma’amsir’ on every restaurant visit, to fully grown men finding themselves referred to as ‘dear’. One unfortunate colleague’s husband found himself renamed ‘Mr Helen’ by hotel staff.
Gender ambiguity aside, however, I like to think I have it a little harder than most. Somewhat of a rarity amid the Jones’s and Jenkins’ in my home town of Aberystwyth, my name caused me plenty of problems even before I left. I have grudgingly accepted having it spelled and pronounced Morris – constantly correcting people wins you no friends.
Using a middle name instead of a first is a seemingly Welsh tradition (I am, for better or for worse, a Sheila), and it has led to nothing but problems and confusion since my arrival in the UAE, from a recent row in the bank over the name on my account to mistrustful glances at the extra letter in my signature. Any noisy situation where I have introduced myself as Becs (my abbreviation of choice, and a pre-emptive strike to avoid being called Becky) has resulted in me spending many an evening being called Bet.
But with a melting pot of nationalities, it is hardly to be expected that every spelling and pronunciation in Abu Dhabi will be correct. Indeed, I’m sure I’ve already made more than my fair share of faux pas, and, if so, the people I have met have accepted them graciously. So I guess for now I’ll just grin and bear it – and maybe even learn to love my exotic new titles. Just as long as Repeller doesn’t stick.
