Occasionally I have interactions with others that leave me wondering what happened. I've been told that sometimes I talk too quietly which makes people guess what I said, but that doesn't necessarily explain the numerous conversations I've had lately that didn't make sense.
Example number 1.
I went to the post office to mail Jenn a package. The man behind the counter asked if I was sending the package to someone on a boat. I answered that it was going to Korea. I'm not sure where the miscommunication happened, because he then said, "You used masking tape and it will melt in the heat of the desert." I have never participated in the National Geographic World Championships, but I am fairly certain that Korea is not made up primarily of deserts. Even if it is, Jenn lives in the city so MOOT POINT. I didn't feel qualified to speak* on the melting properties of masking tape so I replied with "Oh." Because I am always very eloquent. Then he made me walk all the way to the other side of the room to get not-meltable tape.
*I will usually keep talking even when I'm not qualified to do so. It's a gift, really.
Example number 2.
I went to the Mennonite store to get Daniel a few things for his birthday. I found some maple walnut fudge but wasn't sure how well it would mail so I went up to the girl bagging seasonings and said, "Do you think this would mail well or would it melt?" Again, some sort of miscommunication occurred because she looked at me with a funny face and said, "Well, if you leave it out in the sun it will melt." Although I consider myself the biggest supporter of the US Postal Service and have bought more than my fair share of Forever Stamps since 2007, I do not know all their ins and outs. That doesn't mean I can't state with quite a bit of confidence that the box would most likely not be strapped to the top of some truck in order to get as much sun as possible between Tennessee and Massachusetts. So I said, "It will be in a box and I don't think it will be spending much time in the sun." She thought for a minute before replying (and here's where things started to go even further down the wrong trail), "A box in the sun? Because then it will melt and turn into a ball of fudge." Did she not hear the part where I said MAIL? WILL THIS MAIL WELL? I started to say, "No. I mean..." but instead thanked her for her time and moved on.
The fudge arrived intact and unmelted, just as I bought it. The postal service pulled through yet again.
Example number 3.
I've had my name for many years now. 24 to be exact. Sarah has been on the most popular girls names lists for about the last 800 years. Everyone and their mother knows someone named Sarah. I'm friends with about 12 on Facebook. Occasionally I need to clarify that I have an H at the end, but everyone I have ever come in contact with is familiar with the spelling.
Then I moved here.
Since we moved here 15 months ago, I have been asked how to spell my name no less than 17 times. I started keeping track because it seems so ridiculous to me. Usually people will ask my name then look at me with a slightly confused face while asking, "What was that again? Did you say Sienna?" It's gotten to the point where I generally skip the 'Sarah with an H' speech and go straight to spelling it right off the bat.
The boy doing the sign up sheet at Zumba really took the cake for spelling incapabilities.
Boy: "What's your name?"
Very long pause during which he moved the pen around but didn't write anything.
Me (trying to be helpful): "Sarah with an H."
I looked away for a second and when I looked down at the paper I saw he had written SH.
Me: "The H goes at the end. It's Sarah like Sarah and Abraham from the Bible."
(For the record, I don't know why I went that route. It's not like the Sarah in the Bible is some sort of commonly known character like Noah. Although he probably couldn't have spelled that either.)
Boy: "So it's S-e-h?"
Me: "No. It's Sa...I can write it if that's easier."
I'd still be there if we were also trying to spell my last name.