What's In A Name

My name is Mark Jervis. My parents called me Mark because it couldn’t be shortened – if I’d been a girl, I would have been named Emma. Of course, instead of calling me Mark, everyone just shortened my surname instead. Throughout my life, all my friends, my teachers at school, work colleagues, girlfriends – all of them have called me Jerv. I much prefer it, it’s more unique. I know plenty of other Marks but I’ve never met another Jerv.

But, at the age of 35 when most people are putting Mr in front of their surnames, you’d expect to refer to someone using a term that’s a bit more responsible sounding than a nickname carried through from childhood. If someone outside of my family refers to me as Mark, it generally means that I’m doing something that requires a certain amount of seriousness or professionalism – something that befits my age, whereas Jerv represents a comforting friendliness and lack of formality.

This comes with problems though. When I have to introduce myself to someone as Jerv, I can’t help but feel self-conscious. It sounds a little wanky, a little needlessly zany as though I’m trying to impress my personality too heavily. I’ve met plenty of people who’ll shake your hand and say something like: ‘Hey, call me Groover,’ or ‘Hi, my friends know me as Stallionfist,’ and you instantly know what kind of person they are. The kind of person they are is a tit. Undoubtedly, I’m a tit as well – but I’m not sure I want it to be obvious from the very first words I speak to someone.

This week, I start University. Aside from all the people on my course there’ll be housemates and lots of new people to meet in social situations – all of which I’ll have to introduce myself to. I’ve faced this sort of situation before when travelling and the introductory conversation was always hideously confusing.

‘I’m Jerv,’ I’d say.
‘Sorry, you’re what?’
‘Jerv.’
‘Jev?’
‘No, Jerv. J.E.R.V.’
‘Jeff?’
‘Yes, OK, Jeff. I’m Jeff.’

It was like having a series of aliases. Everywhere I went was different. In Sydney I was Jeff; Melbourne: Jev; Adelaide: Jez; Perth: Jerz; Tasmania: Smurf (they’re strange on the south island). Granted there was often a language/accent barrier but I persisted, in spirit at least I retained my Jervness when it would have been so much easier to say: ‘I’m Mark’.

It didn’t matter so much back then because the people I generally met were only fleeting acquaintances. We’d stay in the same hostel room for a few days or work alongside each other for a while before we both moved on. The people at University however, will hopefully become closer friends that I’ll keep for much longer. If I don’t work out a way to effectively introduce myself, I could quite easily become Mark and lose Jerv completely.

As content as I am to abandon my career, leave friends behind and move to the other end of the country, there are some things that I don’t want to lose. One of those things is a sense of who I am and who I am is most definitely Jerv.