THE NAMING OF THE SCHROUGH

"How do you feel about 'Tangent?'"

The couple seated across the desk—the Taziks—were obviously nervous. The wife looked at the man, frowned slightly and looked away. The man returned her gaze, tugged at his soul patch and made a slight grunting sound. "We don't really like it," he said at length.

"What's wrong with it?" asked Linda. "It's a perfectly good name. It's strong, definitive, unique."

"It's a math word!" the wife, Teagan, blurted. "That's not a real name. It's a straight line that touches a point on a curve. Might as well name the kid 'Asymptote.'"

Linda made a mental note, thinking that she might be able to sell that one to some other young, hipster couple. "Just because it's an object doesn't mean it can't be a name. How many 'Bunny's do you know?" She realized that this was a bad example. Nobody had named a child 'Bunny' since the mid-1950s. She was dating herself. She had better be careful to keep herself relevant. She tried a different tack. "You know, if you don't like 'Tangent,' I'm sure we can come up with something different. 'Argent' maybe. Or 'Demetrius'—a good classic name for a strapping young lad, such as yours is sure to be."

"Are you sure you're qualified to be doing this?" asked the husband, Sage. "I mean, you've given us some pretty…unconventional…choices: 'Garton,' 'Laker,' 'Chain.' You wanted us to name the kid 'Mann Tazik' for God's sake!"

"Oh, yes. I named Chris and Gwyneth's baby. The Martins, you know. Gwynnie wanted to use a y—'Appyle'—but I convinced her that she wouldn't want to overdo it. 'Apple Martin' is exotic enough. She trusted my advice and now 'Apple' is rocketing up the charts. It's the name that gained the most mindshare during the 2004–05 season." This was a bit of an exaggeration. Not the part about the popularity of 'Apple,' but about her role in naming the baby. Truthfully, she was just one of several name consultants that had bid on the Martin contract. Linda had been the one to suggest 'Appyle' in her proposal, but Gwyneth had removed the y herself, and for the same reason Linda had just mentioned.

"That's all well and good, but—" Sage began.

"Maybe we should just try some alternate spellings," interrupted Linda. "That's a great way to make a unique name, but keep a link to the classics. How about…" She drew four letters on a yellow legal pad: D-A-A-N. "The double a's give the name a long vowel sound."

"Don?" asked Teagan. "No."

"Okay. You're really making me earn this paycheck," Linda joked. She began writing: A-I-R-E-C-K.

"Seriously? The 'Air' part makes it too close to 'Airyn,' which is widely known to be a girl's name," said Sage. "You get one more shot."

Linda fidgeted in her seat. Her clients always liked at least one of her suggestions, even if they had modified it. These two should have been the same. Like the rest of her clientele, the Taziks were both in their late 20s and part of the hipster scene. They clearly wanted their child's name to stand out from the pack, just like everyone else. She couldn't understand why these two were different. Regardless, it was time to break out her secret weapon. The name no self-respecting parent could refuse when playing this game of cross-generational one-upmanship.

Picking up the pen, Linda bit her bottom lip. This name combined the best of both naming conventions: it had both alternate spelling and the surprise of being untraditional. With no verbal introduction, she began to write.

She pushed the paper across the desk toward the waiting couple. T-R-E-W-B-E-D-O-R-R-E. The perfect name.

The Taziks looked at it, then at each other, and stood. "Thank you for your time," said Sage. He quickly scribbled a check for $200 and handed it to Linda. "Good day," he said.

As they exited the office, Linda heard Teagan speak. "Maybe we should just name him 'Travis…"


© 2007 Steve Gooch
(Thanks Gawker !)