If you’re reading this you have probably noticed my last name* is a tad unusual.
*That’s the surname, correct? Surname is one of those archaic words that confuse the hell out of me. Why can’t we just say last name like normal people? Also on that list: former and latter. I have an intense fear of having to make a choice based on knowing which is which. “Your choice is a million dollars or being beaten about the head with a blunt object. Would you rather have the former or the latter?” My fallback if that situation ever arises is, as always, to fake a seizure.
I have never met another Allhands, family excluded. However, I have heard the occasional rumors of others, you know, like one hears about Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster. I remain skeptical. Four or five times a year someone invariably will ask if I know So-and -So Allhands. My typical response is to smile and say I’ve never met them; however, I’m sure we’re related somehow. This usually satisfies their curiosity and they tell me “Well, they are a really good person” as if to reassure me that the general reputation of the family name is in good standing far and near. I feel Smiths never have this conversation. Someday I’m going to respond by leaning in and whispering, “Oh, that’s the bastard strain of Allhands” just to see the reaction.
I have never researched the genealogy of the name. I’ve heard it is German (which would explain my pasty complexion, complete inability to tan and propensity for starting international conflicts) and I’ve also heard it is English (which would explain the crooked teeth). People who want to know everything about their ancestors are much braver than I; it’s too big of a gamble. Sure you may find a Revolutionary War hero or Pilgrim in the mix, but there is an equally good chance of turning up a serial killer. I need better odds than that to dig any deeper than asking my parents where we came from. I will just assume my forefathers were pleasantly ordinary and cut my losses.
Typically the progression for people once they hear my name is disbelief to sympathy to ridicule, or, as I like to call it, the circle of life. Let’s break it down!
Disbelief: For some reason I have never understood, people rarely call me by my first name, be it Michael or Mike*. This translates to me being introduced, more often than not, as Allhands, which in turn leads to eyebrow raising and/or double takes. This is my cue to hastily explain that yes that is my actual name, not a nickname.
*Odd observation from my life #164: I have been called Mikey more often than I ever thought possible. Granted, once is more often than I ever thought was possible. I firmly believe no one older than eight should be called Mikey and calling someone that reveals some creepy things about you. There are two exceptions: The person you are addressing made a small fortune in Life cereal adds in the 70s or is a 1930’s gangster.
Why the haste? There are two reasons anyone would be nicknamed Allhands. Uno: The individual has some sort of significant athletic prowess, like catching footballs or fielding baseballs. Observing me for approximately 1.27 seconds would rule out this possibility. Which brings us to reason B: The individual has a reputation as a molester.* Trust me, you want to head that stagecoach off at the pass.
*From first through fourth grade, my teachers, without fail, would make this joke on the first day of class: “Allhands? Good luck getting a date with that name! Nudge nudge, wink wink, amiright or amiright kids?” Thank you, ma’am, for that boost to my confidence. My therapy bill is in the mail.
Sympathy: There a few standard expressions here. They range from fake enthusiasm (“Really? How interesting!”) to knowing aren’t-kids-jerks condolences (“Wow, I bet you got teased a lot when you were growing up”). While the sentiment is truly appreciated, I wish we could just skip this step and move on to where the real fun begins…
Ridicule: I realize that carries a pretty negative connotation; however, this one is by far the most fun. What’s the fun in having a fairly goofy last name if you can’t wring some hilarity out of it?
Not that it is all Grade-A hijinks. Listen, I’m thirty mumble mumble years old; I have heard exactly 99.94% of all possible jokes about my name before. A little originality goes a long way, but I understand we are walking on well traveled paths here. I don’t judge to harshly. Even if you throw out the nautical classic “All hands on deck” I will give you a polite smile and nod. In fact, there are only two that out and out annoy me:
1) Nofeet. Aw, I see what you did there! You took it and made it the opposite of what it was! Because opposites are hi-larry-us….when you’re seven. Come on, show some effort! You are better than that!
2) AH. Now, this is not a jokey one, per se. I’m just annoyed by thought you are too busy to take the extra quarter of a second to spell/say the entire thing. This whole abbreviating everything is on the wrong side of moderately irritating. Wtf.
If you are shooting for annoyance, those are guaranteed winners. The vast majority are pretty fun and I find most of them pretty endearing. Three that stand out (and I promise this is the last list):
Hands-There is something appealing to having this drunkenly yelled out. It’s kind of the “Norm!” effect, which is oddly comforting.
Any emotion followed by hands. For example, Giddyhands or Bitterhands. You might think these are a little on the simple side, but they never, ever fail to crack me up.
And Bananahands, which is a long story. Evidently a giant banana costume tends to stick with people. Who knew?
In all honesty, the name thing has never been an issue or bothered me at all, even as a kid. I enjoy that people find it entertaining. It’s not like anyone has a lot of say in the name game. I’m a fairly average white guy; anything that comes across as unique is probably a good thing.
Besides, at least it’s not Humperdink. That would be embarrassing.
