Living with my name

We all must learn how to live with our names. But in my case it determines the nature of any and all dialogues I start with English speaking humans.

If I could capture the expressions of each person that hears my name for the first time, I would probably find the universal facial meaning of bewilderment.

The saga begins when my interlocutor tries to chew my name. The distortions are comical at best, but most of the time utterly absurd.

Sorry, excuse me and/or say again are the most common phrases that bounce back to me after I say my name.

So my personal Chinese whispers game involves only two people and 4 steps:

Step one: I say my name - Jorge
Step two: I say my name again (s-l-o-w-l-y this time)
Step three: I repeat step two
Step four: I spell my name Jeei-Ouu-Arr-Gee-Eee.

Aah, HORHAY! They respond, as a smile shyly replaces confusion.

At this stage I could choose to accept defeat with an honorable grin and move on, or go to step two again and again and again...

However, if the mood is appropriate and advanced version of the game can be played. The ultimate identity catharsis involves using my full name (Jorge Luis). Results are fascinating and surprisingly it generally requires only two steps.

Step one: I say my full name (Jorge Luis)
Step two: I repeat step one (s-l-o-w-l-y)

HERCULES! Bounces back, their eyes wide open trying to hide their laughter for such a misfortune!

Do not get me wrong, I'm not complaining. In fact, my name has given me the gracious chance to be four different personas:

For social interactions and work, I normally play Jorge (and settle for Horhay).
For people I want to become friends I gamble with Jorge Luis.
And when I could not care less, I simply become Diego (but never, never ever George!).