Pounding sand
I have to assume that most advice from career pundits* is directed at John and Jane Smith. At the moment I have in mind the advice that says that you must Google yourself to make sure there is nothing out there about you that is embarrassing/inappropriate.
I am better acquainted than most with genuine paranoia, and I must say my hat is off to the pundits. However, I indulged that comedy today. I must explain that the object of the game is to review only the first three pages of the Google returns: anything more exceeds the attention span of the average corporate HR person.
The odds-on winner when googling my Welsh name is a New Zealand rugby player. He appears to have sustained a serious injury, leading to considerable speculation about his future. Second place goes—for reasons I know not—to a British business type who seems to be fairly prolific with his opinions.
Third place is a bit of a problem. That goes to an Australian columnist who happens to be on the same beat I am. That could possibly become awkward, and I shall have to think about ways to address it.
Did I appear? Yes indeed; in connection with a couple of academic monographs I published more than 25 years ago. Go figure.
The best part of this exercise is its educational value for Americans. My name is common in Wales, and far from rare throughout the quondam British Commonwealth. It is only rare (in the extreme) in the US of A, where people feel free to mispronounce a one-syllable first name because they are too lazy or stupid to sound it out: this in a country whose president is Barack Obama. Stir your stumps, people: my name is pronounced just the way it looks. It requires no added vowels dredged from your imaginations.
I just made a Thanksgiving dinner reservation. After profusely apologising to me for getting my name wrong in the records, the restaurant in question got it wrong again in the confirmation. Is it any wonder I think most of the human race are idiots?
This continued comedy does have its benefits. Family members long ago learnt to find me in a crowd by shouting my name instead of, say, "Dad." It is also an instant conversation starter with Britons. They recognise my name and origins at once, and then find it hysterical to learn that Americans can't pronounce it.
This is something you can ponder whilst munching your "freedom fries."
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*There is some irony in the fact that the word "pundit" is of Indian origin.
I am better acquainted than most with genuine paranoia, and I must say my hat is off to the pundits. However, I indulged that comedy today. I must explain that the object of the game is to review only the first three pages of the Google returns: anything more exceeds the attention span of the average corporate HR person.
The odds-on winner when googling my Welsh name is a New Zealand rugby player. He appears to have sustained a serious injury, leading to considerable speculation about his future. Second place goes—for reasons I know not—to a British business type who seems to be fairly prolific with his opinions.
Third place is a bit of a problem. That goes to an Australian columnist who happens to be on the same beat I am. That could possibly become awkward, and I shall have to think about ways to address it.
Did I appear? Yes indeed; in connection with a couple of academic monographs I published more than 25 years ago. Go figure.
The best part of this exercise is its educational value for Americans. My name is common in Wales, and far from rare throughout the quondam British Commonwealth. It is only rare (in the extreme) in the US of A, where people feel free to mispronounce a one-syllable first name because they are too lazy or stupid to sound it out: this in a country whose president is Barack Obama. Stir your stumps, people: my name is pronounced just the way it looks. It requires no added vowels dredged from your imaginations.
I just made a Thanksgiving dinner reservation. After profusely apologising to me for getting my name wrong in the records, the restaurant in question got it wrong again in the confirmation. Is it any wonder I think most of the human race are idiots?
This continued comedy does have its benefits. Family members long ago learnt to find me in a crowd by shouting my name instead of, say, "Dad." It is also an instant conversation starter with Britons. They recognise my name and origins at once, and then find it hysterical to learn that Americans can't pronounce it.
This is something you can ponder whilst munching your "freedom fries."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
*There is some irony in the fact that the word "pundit" is of Indian origin.
posted by Uncle | 22:37
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