Why aren’t people called numbers…morning 62, how are you 71?

Hi, my name is 1!

Hi, my name is 1!

I’m not a number, I’m a free man! More’s the bloomin pity. I’m appalling at remembering people’s names, even worse at friends’ children’s names – yet give me a number to remember and it’s a doddle.  It’s a particular problem when I’m filming programmes, as I’m often in someone’s house going through their intimate finances and then suddenly realise I’ve no clue what their name is.

Worse still, having just spouted a huge amount of financial info about them, it sounds a little awkward to say “my memory’s not so good”.

This week I was working with two families, the first for ITV1 Tonight on budget airline fees was pretty easy.  Mum and youngest daughter were rhymingly Illy and Milly, while dad and eldest were double-Hs Howard and Hannah. Though as I’m writing I realise I may have Howard’s name wrong – which is ridiculous as it was only two days ago, and we spent the whole day together and got on really well – but I am a name sieve.

Then yesterday there were six for BBC2 Money Watch filming, all lovely but it’s only due to the fact MSE Alana was with me that I can confidently write they were Colin & Gloria, Anne-Marie & Graham, and Christina and William.   How come she remembers with ease and I can’t?

With numbers it’s different.

Yet my number memory is different. A few weeks ago, filming cheap petrol for Watchdog, the producer said to me:

“OK she filled her tank with £36.76 of petrol, drove 245 miles, got just over 36 miles to the gallon, in five days etc” and a host of other details.

He then asked me what format I wanted them written on a card – and I told him not to bother and played them all back to him there and then – and never had to check a note on it again.

The digits simply filter straight into my head whereas names just get lost.  

A campaign to have people called numbers?

While it’s not the best for individuality, it’d really help me if people were called numbers, and think how romantic it’d be…

Man leaning in on bar: “Hi, I’m 32 what’s your name?”

Attractive woman fluttering eyelashes: “Hi, 32 nice to meet you, I’m 71”

Man retorts: “Really? you look more like a 192 to me!”

Girl blushes: “Really? I’ve always wanted to be called 192!”

OK I should probably end this blog here – I’m not quite sure where I’m going with this…
Comment and Discuss