Most people know me as Cathie (or Cathy, Kathy, Kathie, you get the picture). I’ve never seen myself as a Cathie, not even when I was a child. I don’t think I can explain what makes a person look like a Cathie or not, but I know I’m not it. Every time I look in the mirror, I wonder, “Is today the day I feel like my name?” Unfortunately, my reflection has never answered positively.
I’ve met a lot of Cathies in my lifetime. I think it was an extremely popular name back in the day. It seems to have made a resurgence but the kids are Catherine without a nickname. You can hear the moms on the playgrounds telling their Catherines that it’s time to go.
After my friend, Courtney, moved back to Pennsylvania, I got two new roommates. Turns out we were all Catherines which is funny because after my parents divorced, my dad lived with two other Franks. The three Franks. The three Catherines. What are the chances? The thing is one Catherine went by Kay, the second called herself Kati, and then there was me. Kay, Kati, and Cathie. Kay and Kati both looked like their nicknames. I should ask them if they think I look like mine.
Currently, I am attempting to switch everyone over to calling me Catherine. Catherine is a regal sounding name, and I like it; however, the problem comes from getting everyone to climb aboard the name changing train. At my age, it may be too late unless I move to another state (or another country a la Sugar Jones), and I’m not willing to do that just yet.
The compliance manager from my new broker called yesterday to confirm that I wanted Catherine and not Cathie on my name badge. She’s giving me until this morning to get back to her with any changes.
I think I’ll let Catherine stick.