This morning, as I was celebrating the fact that Bill gets to come home even earlier– as in today, instead of tomorrow, I went to RfM to see if anyone had posted anything interesting. Near the top of the list of posts was one called “My take on Donnie and Marie.” I apologize in advance, because this is going to make me sound even more hyper anal retentive than usual. But, before I even opened the thread, I was annoyed. Why? Because the person who wrote this post misspelled Donny Osmond’s name.
It bugs me when people misspell other people’s names, especially if the person is famous. Maybe it’s because I am a writer– in the sense that I write every day and majored in English– and proofreading and editing are a big part of that process. There’s something really lazy about misspelling a person’s name, particularly a common first name, like Donny. And when the person is famous, it’s especially annoying to me.
Maybe this is akin to people who get irritated when other people chew loudly. I have a couple of friends who suffer from misophonia, which is “select sound sensitivity syndrome” (try saying that four times fast!). A lot of times, people who have misophonia can’t stand certain sounds and, in my experience, most of these people don’t like the sound of someone else chewing. I can’t say that I enjoy the sound of a person chewing, but it probably doesn’t irritate me as much as off-key singing does.
What is even more annoying is when a person misspells a person’s name and then continues to misspell it. Oftentimes, when you correct the person, they get exasperated and claim it doesn’t matter. I think spelling matters, especially when it’s a person’s name. A person’s name is one of the most important things about them. These details matter. I’m always disappointed when someone says, “It’s no big deal. We know what was meant.”
I encountered that attitude a few months ago when I got involved in a discussion about HIPAA. People kept spelling it “HIPPA”. When I finally said something, people not only said it didn’t matter, but others actually told me I was wrong. I knew I wasn’t wrong and proved it, only to have the group owner say that “we all know what was meant.” But what if HIPPA stands for something else? A quick Google tells me that at this point, it doesn’t. In fact, if you search for HIPPA, you’ll get a suggestion for HIPAA. Instead of taking a minute to check this, people just insist that I’m wrong.
No one likes to be caught in a mistake, even though everybody makes them. I don’t like it any more than another person does. However, I think when that happens, it’s better to just swallow your pride and learn the lesson. That way, you don’t look uninformed and no one will feel the need to correct you.
When it comes to names, though, I think spelling is especially important. A person’s name is a very personal thing. Donny Osmond probably doesn’t pay attention to people who spell his name Donnie. I don’t care enough about this issue or that person’s thread to go back and correct the spelling. It’s just that whenever I see it, it sticks out like a sore thumb. I’m reminded of an early episode of Desperate Housewives, when Bree Van de Kamp was visiting her therapist. She sees that he has a loose button on his jacket and insists on mending it right then and there because it was bugging her.
Same as when her husband, Rex, dies suddenly. Rex’s mother insists on burying him in a school tie that looks ridiculous. Bree is compelled to change the tie. Actually, the scene is kind of funny, since Bree is easily able to pull Rex to an almost sitting position. I would have expected him to be stiff as a board by that point.
Maybe I have a little Bree in me, although I’m not nearly as polished as she is, and I’m not as uptight about certain things like whether or not there’s dog hair in the door jamb. I am uptight about other things, like spelling, grammar, diction, and pitch. I’d probably be better off if I were a more relaxed person, but it’s not really in my nature. I’m probably a product of my environment and upbringing, just like everyone is.
Well, hopefully Bill will be home by late afternoon. I look forward to seeing him again and hope we can salvage the weekend before he has to work another seven day week.