But even now, 34 years in, I am still surprised how this name - when communicated to others - has caused the widest range of responses: fascination, hilarity and sometime outright denial. And that was in the UK. In Scotland, even, from where I clearly hail. From teacher's laughing as they read the class list at school, to the name-badge humilation of conferences as I paraded, recently, as Doogkal Surpuchan, to being introduced to an entire assembly by the Head of Drama as Fergal Dougalson, I reckon I've covered the based of humiliation pretty well.
I am aware that it's no John or Mark, but I also don't think I deserve the treatment I sometimes recieve, After all, I'm not called - and yes, these are all real, cause I googled Dumbest Names Of All Time:
- Picabo (yes, that skier)
- Eagle-Eye (yes, the singer)
- Loser or Winner (twins, inspired!)
- Storm (Swedish, genderless)
- Moon Unit (Frank Zappa's kid)
Nevertheless, after 31 years of abuse in an English speaking country, imagine how this translates to Latin America, and to Argentina. Argentines - who are generally called Juan, Diego or María - are never ones to tread lightly around people's feelings, and seem to take particular delight in their incredulity that someone could possibly be called something so clearly a) unpronouncable and b) silly sounding, or c) not Juan or Diego. Or María.
Never is this more apparent than in Starbucks. Now, if ever there was a place to lose your identity in a global latte-sphere then surely to capitalism Starbucks is where you're safe?
 |
| Moon Unit tells another white lie. |
All those friendly, carefully considered homely Starbucks touches that you lot get to enjoy - like the writing of your name on the side of the styrofoam cup? - are the enemy of Dougal.
Your conversation goes like this:
- Hi, what would you like?
- A regular latte, please.
- Name?
- Mary.
- Thank you, that'll be expensive.
- That's fine, thanks.
Before you are even aware you're waiting, you hear your name called out, confidently, like an old friend. Your coffee arrives swiftly, piping hot, with a smile, and a little Mary written neatly in black marker on the side.
Mine arrives luke warm to sniggers from the staff, who cower sheepishly like schoolgirl bullies behind the coffee machine, pulling straws for who has to shout out my name. And in that time I have answered to the following:
- Dukal? Doo-call.
- Dugal? Duck-al
- Toogal. Come on, at least give me some credit. That's not even phonetically likely, is it.
- D...D...Er... Diego? Translation being the least bad option. Although this is a little racist, I'll take it. I mean, Salmans don't get called Simon in the UK, do they?
- Tukal. Rhymes with Doo-call. As in Tukal, the Turkish drug dealer.
I'd long since given up and have been calling myself Juan. But today, half asleep and not really concentrating, she asked, Nombre? I said Dougal. And would you know it, like I'd entered a parallel world where all of you lot live, seemingly seconds later a Dougal was called for, as if I was in Ayrshire, and a coffee was served, with a smile.
Maybe this was a turning point.
But in the negative column, this happened, the memory of which brings me right back down to earth.
Last month, a supply teacher arrived. In the morning in the staff room, I politely introduced myself:
- Hola, como estás? I said.
- Hola, she replied, soy Marialena Milagros de las Paz.
- Soy Dougal.
Judging by her reaction, I mentally re-ran the conversation, because based on her expression I had accidently said Shitforbrains.
- Sorry, she said.
I actually wasn't sure if this was the English version of Sorry, as in Sorry, can you say that again, or if she was actually saying, Sorry, that's a terrible name, as her intonation inferred.
To cover both eventualities, I said, That's fine. It's quite a rare name. I'm from Scotland. Much like the way Basil Fawlty explains all of Manuel's behaviour.
- No, sorry, say again.
- Dougal.
- Doo-kal?
- No. Dougal. Rhymes with Google.
- No, I'm still not getting it.
- You really aren't are you. Dou-gal.
- Ah, Doodle.
- No, you see, you just made a totally different sound. Dougal.
- Doodle.
- No. With a 'g'.
- Oh! Google.
- Do you work in Starbucks?
I go under the name of Pablo in Starbucks and Pablo Gomez when a last name is needed. You would think Ryan is a pretty simple name but I notice that as soon as the Argies here something unfamiliar i.e. Diego or Juan they panic, switch off, revert to default or just invent. Proof of this is that even when I spell it they still get it wrong, the spelling that is. Broken down this is really only asking someone to write down four letters in the sequence in which they hear them. R-Y-A-N has become RAYN, BRYAN, BRAYN, RANY...the part tells the whole. And we must remember that this is a country that only allows its citizens to name their baby's from an approved list of names. Pablo Gomez.
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