365

may.14.22

I'm going to use today's mandatory writing piece for a storytime and a rant.

In my means of making a paycheck, I have to be at certain events and help maintain them, make sure everything looks good. Sometimes, it's pretty cool, because some of these events are fantastic, and it's like a free ticket. Other times, it sucks.

I just got to the event space today for my shift, and I had to use the elevator to go to an upper floor; the elevator is public, so anybody can use it. Three men got in the elevator after me, and one of them I recognized from high school – I wasn't great friends with this guy, but I had classes with him and we did talk a bit. He was a popular kid, main school athlete, and in his later school years took up drama and acting. We had a few classes together – I sat directly behind him in my senior year in my Literature class, and we did talk quite a bit in that class.

This guy, also, does film work for a local hockey team, filming their games and posting them and such. I've also worked those events, the same time this guy is, and I've spoken to him then. It's all small talk, asking how things are going, but it's kind of nice. He's always polite, I'll give him that.

And just like the first time I spoke to him then, at the first hockey game I worked at, the same thing happened this most recent encounter: he thinks my name is Sam.

He asked me how I was doing – which is innocent to enough – if he didn't add the name "Sam" at the end....

I have told him my name a few times when we both happen to be working the same event and strike up one of those lame small talk conversations, and he always politely apologizes and corrects himself.

Thinking back now, I assumed whenever we had to talk to each other while we were in high school, that he knew who I was.

I'm starting to think that was never the case.

Since he was with two other people in the elevator, who seemed surprised that their friend knew who I was, I simply smiled, said I was doing well, and asked him how he was. He said he was good, then returned to his conversation with his friends, saying he needed to grab his stuff from the top floor before meeting up with them after.

The elevator ride ended, I left as soon as the doors opened, and began my event work.

And that has bugged me since the encounter. This boy, who was the high school's star boy all five years, never made an effort to learn the quiet kid's name. Or remember it when it was told to him.

I mean, it wasn't his job to learn a nobody's name, but it just kind of stings – even after I'd told him who I am, on several occasions, he still doesn't seem to care. Not even a little bit. I guess I do t see him every single day, but still; he knows me well enough to strike up a polite conversation, so why not remember my name?

Guess things like that only matter if you're a somebody. Not a nobody.