When baristas at Starbucks ask me for my name so they can write it on my cup, I don’t like to give my real name. It’s a personal quirk. As a small token of rebellion against the system, I give a fake name.
Usually I’m “Phil,” for some reason. Today, though, I decided to be Ed, because I was in a hurry, and I figured that it would be pretty hard to mess up that name.
“My name is Ed,” I said as clearly as I could, thinking to myself, “that should be easy.”
Boy, did I not expect this. Did he think I had a cold?