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The Slice

Tue., March 4, 2014, 5:45 a.m.

Getting the name wrong

Ages ago, photographer Colin Mulvany and I spent a week with a Spokane-based long-haul trucker. We rode with him from Spokane to Los Angeles and back.

I remember a number of things about the experience. There were parts of Nevada that looked more like another planet than anyplace I have seen. I recall that we spent several hours picking up a load of rolled metal at a Southern California industrial complex that had been used as a setting for scenes in "The Terminator."

And I remember that the driver, an OK guy, called my co-worker "Collins" for most if not all of the trip. (I can't remember now if Colin or I ever corrected him.)

But that leads to my question.

If someone with whom you are going to have limited dealings gets your name wrong and you let it ride for a while, is there a point when you essentially say "what the hell" and decide that correcting him or her is almost more trouble than it's worth? 




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The online home for Paul Turner's musings and interactions with disciples of The Slice.