Most things, I remember. My nieces' birthdays. My boss's phone number. My password for the ATM.
But where one work colleague is concerned - a lovely, middle-aged man with curly auburn hair - I draw a blank. I can never remember his name.
This is weird. I know everyone else's names. Never need to pause for a second before greeting any one of them.
But this fellow is another story. And we chat almost every day.
This is a problem. "Barbara!" he'll say when we bump into each other in the elevator or beside the water cooler or in the lunchroom.
"Hello!" I will reply, trying desperately to recall whether his name is Dave or Dan or Doug or Darwin.
Pretty sure it starts with a D. Heaven knows I've tried to remember. Many days, when I hear someone mention his name, I will write it down, or close my eyes and concentrate, determined to lodge it in the memory bank. The deposit never works.
"Barbara!" he said, just a few days ago. We'd met up by the photocopier.
"Hi!" I said. "How's it going? How was your weekend?" By now, I am sure that Dave/Dan/Doug/Darwin is on to me, and knows I haven't a clue who he is.
The husband understands. He has a similar issue.
With the husband - who never forgets my birthday or our anniversary or my telephone number at work - it's his workplace's newest hire.
"Man!" he says. "There's something wrong with me! I was chatting with this new recruit today and I couldn't remember her name! She must think I'm nuts!" He, too, has tried to play the memory game.
"I'm going to come up with a jingle so I'll never forget her name," he said.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"A poem," he said. "I'm going to create a poem. You know: Roses are red, violets are blue, the new hire is nice, and we all call her Sue."
"Is her name Sue?" I asked.
"I can't remember," he said. "I think it's Sue, but it could be Sally. Or Sarah. Or Shelley. Or maybe Dorothy."
I nodded, feeling his pain.
"A poem could be tricky if her name's Dorothy," I observed.
Frankly, though, the whole thing is tricky - and more than a little embarrassing.
The only solution, as I see it, is to inform my colleague I've decided to give him a nickname. He may think that odd, but it's all I can do. Hope he won't mind being called Red.
