Some people have a superhuman ability to remember names. They meet you once at a networking event, and three years later, they greet you with a warm, “Hey, AJ! How’s your dog, Merlin?” Meanwhile, you’re standing there in a cold sweat, frantically searching the dark corners of your brain for anything—anything—about this person beyond vague familiarity. You know the face… your really do, but the name just won’t come.
For me, names are my personal kryptonite. I can remember the entire backstory of a Breaking Bad character, the exact coffee order of a friend I haven’t seen since 2016, and why that one scene in a random TV show perfectly represents late-stage capitalism—but a human name? Gone. Evaporated. Erased from my brain as quickly as an email about “exciting new workplace policies.”
If you, too, suffer from this affliction, fear not! This article is both a mourning of our useless brains and a strategic survival guide to dodging, deflecting, and (on rare occasions) actually remembering names.
1. The Sudden Realisation of Doom
The worst moment isn’t when you forget someone’s name—it’s when you realise you’ve forgotten their name.
This often happens mid-conversation, right after they greet you enthusiastically by name, with a tone that suggests you should 100% know theirs too. This is panic territory. You now have seconds to react, and your options are:
- Fake confidence. (“Heeeyy… you!”)
- Stall for time. (“Wow, it’s been ages! What’s new?”)
- Create a diversion. (“LOOK! A DISTRACTED PIGEON!”)
- Accept your fate. (Smile, nod, pray they bring up their own name.)
Unfortunately, none of these guarantee success. If you’re unlucky, the conversation escalates into an even worse scenario: introductions.
2. The Hell That is Introducing People Without Names
The moment you’re in a group and need to introduce someone whose name you’ve forgotten is a true test of character.
Tactic 1: The Fake-Out Introduction
You introduce the person you do remember and hope the mystery guest fills in their own name.
“Oh, you two should meet! This is Sarah, and… well, I’ll let you introduce yourself!”
This sometimes works, but only if they’re not also a name-forgetter. Otherwise, you end up standing in awkward silence, both waiting for the other person to speak.
Tactic 2: The Vague Gesture
You sort of gesture toward them, hoping they say something first.
“And this is… uh, an absolute legend, by the way.”
Congratulations, you have now created a social situation so awkward it might be studied by anthropologists in the future.
Tactic 3: The Sudden Overuse of “Mate” or “Dude”
If you’re British, “mate” will save you 70% of the time.
“Oh yeah, me and this legend go way back, don’t we, mate?”
Other variations include:
- “Champ!” (A terrible choice unless you’re a 1950s boxing coach.)
- “Boss!” (If you work in sales, this might actually get you promoted.)
- “Big guy/little guy!” (Use with caution unless you want to get punched.)
3. The Worst Case Scenario: Being Called Out
Sometimes, people realise you don’t remember their name and—worst of all—call you out on it.
Them: “You don’t remember my name, do you?”
Me: I would rather fall into a volcano than answer this question honestly.
At this moment, you have two choices:
- Admit defeat. (“I am so sorry, my brain is made of soup.”)
- Deflect with unnecessary enthusiasm. (“Oh my god, of COURSE I do! It’s… you!”)
Some people will kindly reintroduce themselves. Others will let you suffer for dramatic effect. You deserve this.
4. Strategies for Long-Term Name Avoidance
If you consistently forget names, you need systems in place to avoid total social catastrophe. Here are some elite-level avoidance tactics:
The “Saved by Social Media” Strategy
Before meeting someone, do a stealth check on LinkedIn, Instagram, or Facebook. Scroll until their name lodges itself into your brain. Caution: If you go too deep, you risk accidentally mentioning their holiday from 2014, exposing yourself as a certified stalker.
The “Nickname Everything” Approach
You assign people vague but memorable nicknames in your head:
- Beard Guy (self-explanatory).
- Talks Too Much Steve (not even sure if he’s a Steve).
- Mysterious Hat Woman (the hat is now more important than her name).
The problem? If they change their look, you’re screwed.
The “Let Someone Else Go First” Trick
If you’re in a conversation and someone new joins, pray that introductions happen naturally before you have to say their name. If that doesn’t happen, you are trapped.
“Hey… you! Have you met… my friend here?” (Prays they introduce themselves to each other.)
5. The Tragic Reality: You Actually Can Remember Names, But Only Too Late
The final insult? Your brain does remember their name… just 20 minutes after they’ve left the conversation.
You’ll be walking home, sitting at your desk, or in the shower when suddenly—BOOM!
“Oh my god. It was JASON.”
Too late. Jason is gone. He probably already thinks you hate him. The damage is done.
Embrace the Chaos
At some point, you have to accept that you’re bad with names and lean into it. Own it. Make it part of your brand.
Next time someone says, “Do you remember my name?” just confidently reply:
“Listen, I barely remember my own name some days, so let’s just reintroduce ourselves like it’s the first time. Clean slate.”
They’ll either appreciate the honesty—or back away slowly, assuming you have amnesia.
Either way, problem solved.
Final Thought: A Radical Solution
What if we all just agreed to wear name tags, all the time?
- No more awkward moments.
- No more name-based shame.
- Just a society where everyone is labelled like they’re at a work conference, forever.
Until that glorious day, may your stalling techniques be strong, your fake confidence unshakable, and your vague “mate” usage convincing.
AJ Wright is a quiet yet incisive voice navigating the surreal world of sociology, higher education, and modern life through the unique lens of a neurodivergent mind. A tech-savvy PhD student hailing from South Yorkshire but now stationed in the flatlands of Lincolnshire, AJ writes with an irreverence that strips back the layers of academia, social norms, and the absurdities of daily life to reveal the humour lurking beneath.
As an autistic thinker, AJ’s perspective offers readers a rare blend of precision, curiosity, and wit. From dissecting the unspoken rituals of academia—like the silent war over the office thermostat—to exploring the sociology of “neurotypical small talk” and the bizarre hierarchies of campus coffee queues, AJ turns the ordinary into something both profound and hilarious.
AJ’s unassuming nature belies the sharpness of their commentary, which dives deep into the intersections of neurodiversity, tech culture, and the often-overlooked quirks of human behaviour. Whether questioning why university bureaucracy feels designed by Kafka or crafting surreal parodies of academic peer reviews, AJ writes with a balance of quiet intensity and playful absurdity that keeps readers coming back for more.
For those seeking a blog that is equal parts insightful, irreverent, and refreshingly authentic, AJ Wright provides a unique perspective that celebrates neurodiversity while poking fun at the peculiarities of the world we live in.
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