Rab McNeil: I often forget people’s names shortly after being introduced to them

I’m too busy worrying if I’m supposed to shake hands with folk or kiss them on the forehead, or whether my flies are undone, or whether they can tell that I sprayed myself with athlete’s foot lotion instead of cologne.

By Rab McNeil

May 27 2023, 1:28pm

Rab sometimes find it hards to remember names.

Like many people, young, old and middling – particularly the last two – I often forget people’s names shortly after being introduced to them.

It’s even worse when I’m supposed to introduce someone, but have forgotten their name. “Er, well, I’m sure you two know each other. No? Oops, I’ve fainted.”

Oddly enough, I’ve become better, though not brilliant, at remembering names in recent years, thanks to a big discovery. It is this: you have to make an effort.

In other words, on being introduced, say the person’s name several times in your head and, if you’ve time afterwards, maybe even make a mnemonic, associating the name with something or someone.

“Rab, this is Bertie Einstein.” And so, shortly afterwards, I tell myself: “Bertie Einstein. As in the famous scientist. Alan Einstein.”

For someone like the present writer – I forget his name for the moment – who is uncomfortable with formalities and indeed social occasions generally, the trouble is I’m often too flustered to put the above advice into practice.

I’m too busy worrying if I’m supposed to shake hands with folk or kiss them on the forehead, or whether my flies are undone, or whether they can tell that I sprayed myself with athlete’s foot lotion instead of cologne, or whether you’re supposed to say: “How do you do?” (too formal) or “Hiya!” (too informal). So I just say: “Aye, ken?”

Rab wonders whether or not to shake hands in some situations.

But, if the situation is not too discombobulating, I’ve found that trying to remember the name works quite well. Otherwise, we just seem to think we’ll absorb the name by osmosis, that it will sink in unconsciously without any effort.

People are quite sensitive about their names, even proud of them. Not I. I might as well be called Fingers McGhie or Shuggie Criminal.

Once, I got a friend’s grown up son’s name mixed up with that of his brother, and he was furious. It put a damper on the rest of the afternoon. Perhaps I shouldn’t have said: “Sorry about that. But you’re both so ugly it’s easy to get you confused.”

Contrariwise, when you do remember folks’ names, they seem really pleased, and even their attitude to you might change. At one place I frequented, the staff were offhand and unfriendly until, one day, standing in a queue, I saw all their photographs and names on a noticeboard nearby.

So, I memorised some names (gradually!) and, next thing, we were besties, exchanging banter, offering hands in marriage, and so forth.

Recently, a chap my age was pleased at having remembered my name, while I was just as pleased at remembering his. We both, however, admitted there was good reason for this: we shared the same moniker (on this occasion, Robert, my Sunday or court appearance name).

Indeed, it would be easier if we all had the same name, with the only difference being between the one for men and the one for women. Rab would be good for the men and Rabina for the women. Mind you, the last could be lead to confusing associations, leading me to say: “Hello again, Blackcurrant Drink.”