Me: "Wes, what's the guard's name who stands in the deck across the street, the one who always punches the elevator button for us at the end of the day?"
Wes: "Um ..."
Me: "Is it Zack? I thought I heard someone call him Zack once."
Wes: "Naw, it ain't Zack. Starts with a D."
Me: "Huh. Maybe it SOUNDS like Zack. Dak? Dax?"
Wes: "Naw, it reminds me of a dog."
Me: "Dachshund? Doc?"
Wes: "NO. Lemme think."
Misty: "SAMSONITE! Wow, I was way off."
[A brilliant reference to this and SO on point.]
Three minutes passed. We stared at Wes in the lobby. He avoided eye contact. He finally said, "I just can't remember. It reminds me of a dog, but I can't come up with it."
We gave up and headed to our desks, dejected. All I wanted to do was to be able to call "Dane" by his name to thank him every evening -- but I didn't really want him to know I didn't already KNOW his name, so I hated to ask him myself.
Pride aside, as I left the office last night and walked across the street to the parking deck, I psyched myself up to ask.
Me: "Thanks so much for calling the elevator for me! You're so nice. What's your name again?"
Me: "MIN-NARD?" [Thinking, "That can't be right. It doesn't start with a D AND it has nothing to do with dogs.]