I must confess that I have an absolutely terrible memory for people. I can remember really obscure moments in my life and repeat verbatim what someone said to me in 1978, I can retrace any route I drove by car at any time in the past. and I can recite any number of poems by heart; but I can walk past someone I sat next to at dinner two weeks ago without recognising them. Or maybe if I’m lucky, I’ll recall seeing them before without having the slightest idea who they are. It’s an embarrassing failing, because people must often assume I am arrogant or rude.
Generally speaking I am fine with people in whose company I am on a regular basis. I have never failed to recognise or remember the names of my immediate family, thank God. And on the whole I am good with colleagues. Though there was that one meeting in my last job, when I was Head of my Department, and I had to introduce all staff to an important visitor. I was doing fine going round the room, but saw a group of three senior colleagues at the end of the row out of the corner of my eye as I was still introducing others. These were important colleagues. And as my introductions were moving towards them, I knew that I could not remember their names, and this realisation and the slight panic that came with it made it even more certain that I wouldn’t now remember. So, without missing a beat, I just made up names for them as I got as far as them, and winked at them. They were not cross, and we laughed about it afterwards. And it taught me that as long as I go and eat humble pie later, that is a good way to get over such tricky moments.
I suppose it is really incomprehensible to me that someone with a really good memory for all sorts of things, including trivia, can fail to recall names of people. I believe I am an outgoing person who mixes well and networks well, and so this failing is both curious and sometimes annoying. I have become an expert in introducing people to each other without mentioning either of their names. And as far as I know, nobody has ever taken offence. Except my family, who are by now sick and tired of me asking in the middle of a movie, ‘Who the hell is that actor, I’ve seen him before?’
And yet I imagine I am not quite alone. It’s not, after all, a question of remembering the 30 people I spend most of my time with. It’s remembering the 4,000 or so students I once taught, the colleagues I have worked with, the obscure relations three times removed who occasionally cross my path, the 2,000 people who have sought me out in my office at one time or another (don’t worry, I didn’t go back to my calendar and add them all up, it’s a wild guess). I am sure others have the same problem. So when I meet people whom I know but who are clearly having a problem remembering me, I don’t leave them in their distress but find a quick way of confirming who I am.
In one way all of this is not trivial. People matter, and human interaction matters. It is not just a question of basic courtesy to remember someone’s name and identity, it is a demonstration of concern, friendship and empathy. So over the years I have trained myself to focus on names so that I can be supportive in a credible way. And I believe I have got better at it. But not perfect. So if I seem to be struggling to remember your name, do help me along; or use the opportunity to adopt that other name you have always really preferred to the one your parents gave you; maybe that one will stick with me.
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