Call me Fishy

I was named for my Uncle. He’s probably one of the sweetest, kindest, most-gentle people you’d ever meet. I didn’t see him much growing up; he was stationed overseas in the army. And I’m proud to be named for him.

My name is Matthew. And it was the 3rd most popular name the year I was born. But there was always someone else named Matt in my class in school. I’ve had items (I’m going to assume) accidentally taken from food trucks, coffee shops, and work cafeterias.

So when I was in retail and there were at least 100 people working at the Apple Store I was at (and there were at least 4 Matts), I adopted the name Fishy, on account of my last name. It kind of stuck.

Co-workers might have a somewhat difficult time getting used to calling me Fishy, but it’s so much easier to distinguish who you’re talking about, or with. And now I find myself interviewing at a company that is NAMED FOR A MATT. I’ve even accidentally intercepted a message for that Matt.

So, don’t worry, I won’t take offense. Please,

Call me Fishy

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