I did a test online and passed with flying colours. I can pick John Lennon, Tricky Dicky Nixon, Bob Marley and Desmond Tutu out of a line-up no problem. But ask me to remember someone I met last week and I’m useless. I’m just as bad with names. It’s not just laziness or disinterest on my part. Even when it’s really in my best interest to remember someone, I can’t do it. The harder I try, the worse it gets.
I’ve developed some strategies to help me cope. I scan the faces of folk if I’m walking the streets, to see if they show signs of recognising me. Often, there are clues in the conversation that strikes up. Sometimes, I can get clues from where people are situated. If I meet someone somewhere unexpected however, I’m totally lost.
Maeve and I bumped into a bloke in Lincoln town centre a few weeks back. He obviously knew me as he was asking about my brewing exploits and after Smudge’s wellbeing. When we’d said our goodbye’s, Maeve asked “who was that?” and I had to admit that I had not the first clue.
It can be rather embarrassing at times. It’s horrible when a number of people meet and I’m the only common acquaintance: then I’m expected to introduce everyone (not a hope in hell!).
We’re all supposed to wear security passes at work. This is a great bonus for me because it means everyone is labelled, in theory at least. The snag is that many of the women wear their passes on their chests. There is little point in trying to deny lascivious intent when you’re caught staring at a young lady’s chest for the third time in a morning.
I am sure there are many folk who I have offended. I’m not aloof or unfriendly but I’m sure there are many who must think me so. I don’t blame them: I’m sure I would arrive at the same conclusion in their position. Maybe it’s not my fault though.