So I’m walking down the Promenade when I suddenly hear my name called out. I turn around and see some bald guy with a goatee approaching me:
“Smivey, wassup, man? What the fuck you doin’ over here?”
My mind starts racing. Who the hell is this guy and why does he know me? I try to stall while I search my memory banks: “Heyyyy, mannnn….I didn’t even recognize you.”
“Dude, what the fuck? I look the same as I did three weeks ago.”
Three weeks. Three weeks. What the hell was I doing three weeks ago? “You sure, man? Maybe it was what you were wearing.”
“Whattaya talkin’ about? I was wearing the same thing I always do.”
Fuck. He’s on to me. “Yeah… I don’t know. You just look different.” There’s an awkward moment of silence. I still have no clue who this guy is. I try some subtle detective work: “So…how’s work?”
“Is that supposed to be funny?”
“Huh?”
“Dude, you know I just got laid off, man. Are you feeling okay?”
Shit. It’s the mailroom guy from my old building. Unfortunately, I still have absolutely no idea what his name is. “Yeah, I was just askin’ how the job hunt was going. You know, how’s work?”
“Whatever, man. I gotta get goin’. Tell Mike I said ‘hey.'”
“Okay…man. Good seeing you again.”
He walks away shaking his head, thinking I’m pretty messed up. And then it dawns on me: I have no idea who the fuck Mike is either.
The Name Game sucks.
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