*nudge, nudge*
As I placed my order, the girl behind the counter asked for a name to call out when the food was ready. I was feeling rather adventurous at the moment, so I told her "Andrea".
My name is Evelyn. You say it like this: Eh-va-lin. You spell it like this: E-v-e-l-y-n. I like my name. I like it a lot. It's not a very common name and that's probably part of the reason I like it so much.
What I don't like is how it's so uncommon that people absolutely slaughter the spelling, much less the pronunciation of my name. I don't know how many times people have told me, "I'll just call you Elizabeth, okay?", to which I want to say, "Sure! and I'll just call you Princess Consuela Bananahammock, okay?". That or they tell me: "Oh! Evelyn! That's my great dead so-and-so's name!" Always someone who is dead. What's an Evelyn to do?
Keeping all that in mind, I figured I was doing this Arctic Circle employee a favor by telling her to say "Andrea" when our food was ready. But as soon as "Andrea" was out of my mouth, the guilt set in. I lied! I lied to a perfect stranger. How could I have done that?
{Guilt, guilt, remorse, guilt, angst, guilt.}
Minutes crawled by as I debated a half-dozen times if I should just fess up to this fast food officer. The rest of the time I concentrated on making sure I'd respond to my new identity when I heard it. Wouldn't want to be caught in the middle of my little misdemeanor now, would I?
My anxiety was all for naught when she brought the food directly to our table. All that remorse for nothing. Still, I was properly flogged for my sin with stomach cramps that have been plaguing me ever since we ate.
Lesson. Learned.
*Image from Google Images
Evelyn Perkins is going through the repentance process to pay for her fast food transgressions, but she always tells the truth--honest!--at her personal blog, The Perks of Life.