Or he's just presumptuous when it comes to messy handwriting.
Yesterday, Kevin received a package for which I had to sign. An hour after that, Kevin called me to ask why I'd signed for the package as "E. George."
I protested, of course, because I didn't sign it with anything other than my name, the driver--or whoever enters those things into the computer--must have assumed that my squiggly surname matched his typed one. "C" is about the only truly legible part of the word, and it's close enough to "G," I guess.
His manager overheard his end of the phone conversation, and started asking him about it, so he reiterated, and the manager found it hilarious. Some other coworkers overheard that, and so he had to tell it again, and they, too, found it hilarious, suggesting that I was planning to propose on Thanksgiving and that was why I did all this family finagling. Which is absurd! Not to mention I have no intention of changing my last name if I ever get married, anyway.
I know it was a joke to them, it just bothers me for some reason. You all know I'm not good at taking that kind of ribbing, for some reason, even though I know it's in jest. Maybe it's the thought that people would latch onto such petty misrepresentations I can't control that bother me to the point that I start in on futile damage control.
But today I made the effort to write my last name clearly. We'll see if it works.