What's in a name?

'Sama' is an unusual name. Fact. I have been on this earth for almost 26 years and I have never met another Sama.

Once, aged 13, I heard from a friend that her sister's mate's brother (or something like that) was called Sammer, spelt with two m's and an 'er'.... But he was a) male and b) of African descent. And occasionally I'm in the supermarket and I hear my name called (or something very similar) and 9 times out of 10- although I don't think it's actually happened 10 times- an Asian family will walk past. This makes sense because apparently Sama means tranquility in Sri-Lankan. Which is quite nice.


Growing up with an unusual name was... unusual. At primary school anything different is seen as freakish. Other children would wrinkle their noses and roll the name around their mouth as if it had a bad taste. Adults would first stop as if they'd misheard, then say the name out loud, just to make sure they'd got it right, and then say:


'That's an unusual name!' (meaning 'I don't like that.') 'Where's that from then?' (meaning 'Are you foreign?)


I would answer dutifully that apparently it's Sri-lanken for 'tranquility' but no, I'm not Sri-Lanken; I'm as English as they come and my mum and dad found it in a name book as an abbreviation of Samantha but they didn't like Samantha so they just went with Sama because they were hippies. (And breathe.) Which is all true. But quite a mouthful when you're 10 years old and you just want to get back on your bike and chase after your friends.

Fortunately I'm now old enough and wise enough to realise that having a different name does not make you a freak. I don't love my name- not like I love maltesers or having my legs stroked at least- but I certainly appreciate it, and as an actress it can be a big plus to have a unique name!

In the call-centre though, it's quite a different story.

Ahh yes, the call-centre. That wonderful place where day in, day out I greet people of all shapes and sizes, colour and creed with the joyful line:

'Thank you for calling *Weight Loss Wonders*, you're speaking to Sama, how can I help you?'

'Hello Barbara', comes the reply. Or 'Emma', 'Sandra' or even 'Sally'. The list goes on. And they always, always sound so familiar with me. Like I'm Babs from next door who pops round from time to time for a cup of tea and a fag. So assured are they that a) they heard me correctly and b) we're best friends from way back, they manage to get my new name in to every single sentence. Or that's how it feels.

'Oh Barbara, what I'm ringing for is...'
'I don't like my leader Barbara, I just find her so rude...'
'Nice talking to you Barbara!'

Of course, I could correct them from the beginning, but what would be point? There would be a slight intake of breath, a pause as they process the fact that my name isn't Barbara, but something altogether quite different, the confusion as they wonder whether they've been re-directed to a call-centre in India, and I'd only have to repeat myself a third time. And then spell it out.

Still, having to spell your name out is no bad thing, especially when I'm the one asking the name. I had a call recently from a lady called Tracey who wanted to cancel her account. Unfortunately, I couldn't find her details, no matter what I did. It was only ten minutes later, when we were both ready to tear our hair out- her insisting that she had an account and me telling her she absolutely did not- that I asked her to spell her name for me. How was it spelt?

Tray-C.

Obviously.