Page 8 of Flirtasaurus
Patience please.
“C-A-L-L-I-O-P-E.”
“Oh wow, I’ve always thought that name was pronounced…”
Here it comes…
“Cally-ope.”
Yeah, this never gets old.
“You’re not alone, Bruce. But it’s not Cally-ope, so I’d appreciate you not calling me that. Consider it this way, people whose names are spelled P-E-N-E-L-O-P-E… do we call them Penny-lope?”
“Well, yeah! Don’t we?”
“No.”
“Wait a damn second. Are you telling me it’s pronounced Puh-NELL-oh-pee?”
“That’s what I’m telling you, yes.”
“My mind? Consider it blown!” He proceeds to make all sorts of explosion gestures emanating from his skull.
“I can tell this is a shocker for you, yeah.” Time to shift gears with this dude. “So. What are you doing on the—”
“Yo, check this out. I had theseSesame Streetencyclopedias when I was a kid? And in the book for the letter P, there was this little story called ‘The Perils of Penny-lope.’ Well, I guess ‘The Perils of Puh-NELL-oh-pee.’ I fuckin’ loved it. Bert dressed like a girl named Penny-lope. Damn… Puh-NELL-oh-pee—wow, it’s gonna take me a minute to adjust to that—anyway, Puh-NELL-oh-pee slash Bert is always getting into these situations where Ernie needs to save her. Trapped in a high tower, tumbling over a rocky cliff, tied to some railroad tracks while a train steadily approaches. It was awesome!”
“Awesome,” I say with almost zero enthusiasm. “So, Bruce...”
“Yes, Cuh-LIE-oh-pee! And in case you were wondering, you got my name right. It is pronounced Bruce.”
“Um. How else would you pronounce Bruce?”
“I dunno. But if I was trying to be difficult like you, I might ask to be called, gosh, Brussy maybe? Broo-chay?”
“How the hell am I being difficult? I am simply asking you to pronounce my name the way it’s—”
I cut myself off and take a breath. I’ve learned very quickly during my brief time in the science world—where I am way too often one of the only people of my gender in the room—that misogynistic annoyances abound and not every instance of insanity requires that I fly off the handle or preach the merits of gender equality. Sometimes, you just gotta pause and breathe until the stupid stops.
Ahhh, see? A little more oxygen and I feel a bit better already.
“So! Bruce! What are you doing for this project?”
“I’m the brawn.”
“Huh?”
“The muscle?”
“I have no idea what you’re—”
“I’m the main builder for the exhibit.”
“Oh, great.”
“Yeah, I’m a proud member of the International Alliance of Theatrical Stage Employees, aka IATSE.”
“Wonderful.”
