So I thought it would be fun to get a personalized license plate for my car. I am 40 years old (give or take) and I’ve never had a vanity plate, so it was time.
I chose “BLOG GAL” (I’m a gal, I blog……… “BOSSY” was already taken, and "CHOCOHOLIC" exceeded the 7-letter maximum). I was so excited when the plate arrived a couple months ago, and it has been such a joy to easily locate my generic vehicle when it’s lost in a sea of black Toyota Highlanders (say, in the Starbuck’s parking lot). What I didn’t count on is: people recognize me now.
People see “BLOG GAL” and they innocently think to themselves, that’s MOV so I’ll just wave hello to her. I’ve got people waving, windows rolling down with the car occupants leaning out, cars beeping, trucks flashing their lights. It’s all very neighborly, except for one thing: I have no clue who these people are.
I’ll see a freighbor the next day at the kids’ bus stop, and she’ll say, “Hey, I waved at you by the dry cleaners yesterday, but you ignored me.” Pouty face.
Or, The Husband’s boss will see me in the line at the grocery store and say, “Why didn’t you beep back at me out front just now?” Hurt look accompanied by closed body language (arms across chest).
Better yet, one of my closest friend’s, A, will say, “The kids and I were flashing the lights and holding streamers out the sun roof, and yet you acted like you didn’t know us.” Mental telepathy message: I won’t be babysitting your kids for you Tuesday after all.
That’s right, lady, I have a hard enough time recognizing people when they are three feet in front of me knocking on my front door, now I have to be responsible for their car make and model? These same so-called “friends” of course get to cheat: “BLOG GAL” is right there on the license plate, no question about it. They might accidentally wave to The Husband if he happens to be driving my car that day, but hey, same family—close enough.
The Husband offers a simple solution: “Hon, just wave back! They don’t know that you don’t know who you’re waving to.” Oh, men. The simplicity of it all. This won’t work because obviously I will be quizzed later (see above).
In the end, I follow The Husband’s advice after all. I wave to everyone. Now I have complete strangers saying, “Excuse me, do I know you?”
(“Mundane Ordinary Vehicle”)