A tray of sandwiches for somebody
I don’t know why I do what I do sometimes.
In this particular case, maybe I did what I did because Janice isn’t really a popular girl’s name.
And if you do find a Janice, more often than not, the name is spelled Janis, not Janice.
On those rare occasions when I do come across an honest-to-God Janice Janice, I feel an instant bonding, the urge to inquire outright – how did you end up with such an unpopular name, one that you never hear mentioned in the lyrics of any songs or find on the Top 10 Names List.
If you noticed what the most popular names are for newborn girls these days, it’s Emma, Olivia, Sophia and Isabella.
Not a Janice in sight.
Binoculars or no binoculars.
So maybe I was rebelling a little bit when I ordered a tray of sandwiches at the store the other day when I gave the clerk my phone number and my name – Janice.
Normally I would respond reflexively and say Kiaski – a name that despite being all of six little old characters, it is a “ski” name as tough for many people to spell as it apparently is to pronounce.
The deal was sealed, though. Sandwiches for “Janice” it was.
Another chore on my list of things to do checked off.
Fast forward to the sandwich pickup day.
Off I send the ever dutiful Better Half to fulfill a Mother’s Day Eve honey-do list that included picking up this tray of sandwiches for me, pretty please.
I am blessed to have a very long-suffering husband who doesn’t mind doing this and that in the name of marital harmony and well being.
It’s a busy day at this store, it being Mother’s Day weekend and all, a time when people are out shopping for food and such to celebrate accordingly.
Better Half takes his number and waits in line.
A pretty long line a pretty long time.
He is a patient man, though, lucky for me.
Very lucky for me.
When it’s his turn at the counter after a bit of a wait that might test and tax the average person’s patience, Better Half explains the reason why he’s there – to pick up a tray of sandwiches ordered a day or so ago.
A tray for “Kiaski.”
The clerk goes and looks for the “Kiaski” sandwich tray.
Better Half waits, feeling encouraged that it’s finally his turn at last on this busy Mother’s Day weekend.
Sorry. No Kiaski.
Huh? Well maybe it’s under her maiden name, he thinks. Check “Hout.”
Yeah, that’s a good guess.
Nope. No Hout. Sorry.
My cell phone rings. It’s Better Half. He doesn’t sound so patient anymore.
What name did I order the sandwich tray under, he wants to know.
I honestly don’t know.
Maybe Janice, I offer.
Victory at last. Sandwiches for everyone.
And I still don’t know why I do what I do sometimes.
I guess it’s a mother’s right on Mother’s Day weekend, no matter what her name is.
(Kiaski, a resident of Steubenville, is a staff columnist and features writer for the Herald-Star and The Weirton Daily Times and community editor for the Herald-Star. She can be contacted at firstname.lastname@example.org.)