Being Frank

My name is Jack DeFranco, but you can call me Frank.  Not really, but everyone I know has called me Frank at least once in my life.  This has been going on for as long as I can remember.  Teachers in school would take attendance and ask if Frank was in today, doctors would greet me at checkups and say “Hey Frank, how are you doing?” and friends would mistakenly pick Frank for their kickball team, along with other tens of thousands instances in my life where this happened.  It was usually followed up with the standard, “Oh I’m sorry, I meant Jack.”

I get because of my last name is why people would mess this up.   DeFranco, get it?  I’m sure you do.  I guess everyone has a Freudian slip every once in a while and calls me that.  It’s not something that ever really bothered me, but I still find it funny that people still do this.  I often find myself correcting people who do this frequently.  I just say “Jack” immediately after and the person usually realizes their mistake.

Then there are those who never get it right and repeatedly call me Frank.  I remember I had a teacher in elementary school who was convinced my name was Frank.  Even if I tell someone “My name is Jack, not Frank,” they still call me Frank.  It makes me wonder what they think my name really is.  Frank DeFranco?  Frank DeJacko?  Outside of Jack DeFranco, Jack and Frank aren’t even similar names to which you can easily mix them up, yet lots of people around me do.

When I was around 10 years old I considered letting Frank be my nickname, but Jack was a much cooler name.  No offense to any Franks out there.  Besides there was another kid named Frank in my class and he used to pick his nose a lot.  I didn’t want to get mixed up with him, but yet I probably did.  So much so that if I’m in the same room with someone named Frank, he’ll be called Jack by accident.

Just the presence of a Jack and a Frank together in the same room creates chaos and confusion.  The most recent mix-up happened just the other day when a guy who I work with (guess what his name is) was called Jack by someone who was looking for him when I was 30 feet away from their conversation.  I know they weren’t looking for me because they were asking about what he was working on.

At this point in my life I just continue to find this stuff amusing.  I guess as long as my name is Jack DeFranco, I’ll be called Frank for the rest of my life.  I should make either a drinking game or charge people quarters for every Frank I get called or Jack someone else gets called.  I’ll have a shitload of quarters and a drinking problem.

Happy leap day everybody!  This is Frank signing off, no wait it’s Jack.  What’s it called.