A new form of ID

A few weeks ago, I took my new computer (another blog in and of itself) to the Apple Store to get a Wi-Fi card installed. The store that's barely 2 miles from my house had no stock, so I had to go to the store in the mall ... and lug the 42-pound machine in from the parking lot to boot. Coincidentally, Trish was going to the same mall with her nieces and her sister Kristi. And she just happened to have a dolly in her car as well. So I met them at the mall, borrowed the dolly, and rolled my system in to the store, no sweat. I left the computer there and joined the girls to kill some time until it was ready.

I didn't rejoin Trish's gang until just after they'd finished eating at the food court. However, they had ... drum roll ... leftovers! For me! And Kayla and Kensie (the nieces, 12 and 9) had packaged them up and personalized the to-go box with my name and theirs. Plus, Kensie drew a turtle that she named Dipu. And you can tell that they didn't know how to spell my name at first. But I guess they know now!

Who says there's no such thing as a free meal?
Click photo to enlarge

So, at the end of the evening, I went back to the Apple Store, leftovers in hand, to pick up my computer. And here we ran into a slight problem. The guy who I'd been dealing with had already left, so no one knew who I was. So they asked for my ID. No big deal, I showed them my driver's license. Whoops.

You may or may not be aware that Dipu is my nickname, not my full name. So while I use Dipu with friends or at work and places like that, for anything official, like paychecks, credit cards, or, in this case, my driver's license, it ain't Dipu. Problem was, when I made the appointment to drop off my computer, I used Dipu, thinking it was all very informal. And normally it is. But since the guy who knew me was gone, I had no proof I was Dipu. (Which he misspelled anyway, incidentally). No proof that was my computer.

Then I realized I was holding a box of food that said Dipu. So I showed it to the guy. Because really, what are the odds I'd just happen to be carrying leftovers with the same unusual name written on it as the misspelled name that sounded the same on the paperwork the guy had filled out?

That was good enough for them. I got my now wireless-enabled computer and polished off the identifying leftovers at home!

(One aside: The food they got was from the Japanese restaurant in the food court that is sometimes staffed by Indonesians. I blogged about that a few years ago in The Layoff Times here. In that same entry, I also blogged about running into local anchor Ron Oliveira in a store. And the previous time I'd gone shopping with Trish, Kristi, Kayla, and Kensie, we ran into Oliveira in a store. Yes, it's a stretch to compare the one day I ate at that restaurant and also saw Oliveira with eating at that restaurant and seeing Oliveira on two separate but consecutive occasions with the exact same group of girls. But hey, at least this is a totally new entry...)