My name is unusual. Years ago, there were 3 “Lowell Sensintaffars”—me, my grandfather, and a distant cousin. My grandfather and distant cousin have passed away, so now I’m the only one—the only Lowell Sensintaffar on the face of this earth.
And this uniqueness presents its own challenges
For example, the ritual of spelling my last name over the phone:
“S” as in “Sam,”
“ E, N,”
“S” as in “Sam,”
“I, N,”
“T” as in “Tom,”
“A,”
“F-F” as in “Frank-Frank,”
“A, R.”
I must hear our clinic staff spell this out for patients, other doctors, and insurance companies over the phone at least a bazillion times every day. God bless them for their patience.
And then there is the whole restaurant thing . . .
“What’s the name on this reservation?”
“Lowell Sensintaffar.”
“Huh? What??? How do you spell that?”
The “deer in the headlights” look happens just about every time, whether I use my first or last name. It wears on you.
Not too long ago, I decided to take a positive, albeit unorthodox, step. We were at Pappy’s, one of our favorite BBQ restaurants in St. Louis. I placed our order at the counter.
“What’s the name on this order?” the young man asked.
“Spartacus,” I proclaimed.
“Really? That is your name?”
“No, that’s not my real name but it’ll do, don’t you think?”
The young man was enthused. “That’s awesome! Tell ya what, when I call out Spartacus, if more than one person stands up and shouts ‘I am Spartacus!’ your dinner is on the house.”
20 minutes later, the young man walked out into the crowded dining room and shouted out, “I have an order for Spartacus! Who is Spartacus?”
I promptly stood up, raised my right fist in the air and loudly proclaimed, “I AM SPARTACUS!”
The dining room became silent, patrons looking at me incredulously. I was the only one standing. No free meal. Why in the world didn’t I prep someone to stand with me? Short-sighted, I guess.
Spartacus is still my pseudonym of choice at fine restaurants everywhere.
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