Jane with an L

She said her name and he asked ”What?” So she said it again and told him “It’s Jane with an L.” At the time I thought it was a horrible summation for who she was but I wasn’t going to interrupt the conversation she was having; I kept to showing my solidarity.

I walked in after work. I saw that my usual spot was open although there was a guy sitting right next to it. The guy’s a regular but I’ve never spoken to him; but there wasn’t anybody sitting next to Bobby. Bobby is a regular I have spoken with; I was torn between seats. Bar buddy protocol was telling me I had to sit next to Booby and that Bobby would be offended if I did, but Bobby likes to more from bar to bar and he wouldn’t be staying long and I would lose my favored seat if I sat next to him. Then I noticed that one of the empty seats by Bob had a beer so after a brief delay to say “Hi’ to Bob, I went to the other end of the bar. Possibly somewhat rude but not outright rude; and Bobby knows the deal – I like sitting where I like to sit. I’m there for the night.

“It’s time for mixed drinks. Right?” she asked. I smiled and turned up my palms and said “Sure. Why not?” Which set off a string of mixed drinks and shots of Vodka. After her shift, I stood next to her as she sat in my former seat and later she escorted me behind the bar. Few patrons get to go behind the bar.

I forget what brought it up but she was talking about her name again which caused me to say “You know, I was a little angry the other day when you said “you’re Jane with an L” because you’re so much more than that.” I’m quite the smooth talker once I’m liquored up a bit. And thankfully she took it as a complement.

Anyway, I have nothing against the name Jane. I like it. It’s nice but it often conjures up plainness and commonness. Women named Jane have that stereotype to deal with, which men named Jane don’t have. So I guess I’m sexist too.