This week I started a new job.
For the past year now, I’d been working at a grocery store in pursuit of a simpler life that still allowed me to provide for my family. It seemed to be a solid strategy at the time; so I took the plunge and left office life. When I went to work at the store, a mistake was made on my nametag, and they used my first instead of my middle name.
I chose to run with it. I mean, heck, I hadn’t gone by “Otha” since I was 13. What could it hurt? It’s not a huge deal, and there’s no way my name will get confused with anyone else’s.
Well, my plan wound up sucking ass.
As I’ve lamented on other social media accounts, working at the grocery store ultimately sucked. Teenage attitudes, poor management, unforgiving hours, low pay. I was about to put my family in the poor house again. So, I motivated myself to go out job hunting one last time, and hit the jackpot with the State.
When it came time to give my name, I was now faced with a decision. Do I keep Otha or do I go back to Wayne? Otha is, of course, my given first name. I chose to go by Wayne when I was 14 years old because I get the desire to be my own person, not just the embodiment of my father’s son. Going back to Otha wasn’t difficult at all. I mean at 44, names really don’t matter as much.
Wayne is who I’d spent 30 years growing into being. Call me superstitious if you will, but I achieved my greatest successes under that particular moniker. The name “Otha” has never held the fondest memories for me, and quite frankly, reclaiming it for a year helped me remember that while “Otha” is my name, “Wayne” is who I am. I’ve decided that I want to reclaim that.
Don’t get me wrong, if you call me Otha, I’m still going to answer to it; but my name is Wayne. Chapter “Otha” has once again been closed. It’s time to go back to the “Book of Wayne”.