Oh, dear og. Tell me about it!
My first name is not too common (though I haven’t personally met someone since childhood who shares it, I do know that other people share it, even outside of the South), but, well, think about the history of aviation, and you’ve heard it, so people generally don’t misspell it. What they sometimes do, though, after hearing me pronounce it, is that they’ll repeat it and add a “t” at the end.
Where they get it, I don’t know. I guess that maybe they know someone who has the “t” at the end, and their brains just can’t process any variation from their norm.
This is all very minor, though, ‘cause what really gets in my craw is this:
I am one of those people whose name follows the not much used these days (AFAIK) but not completely unheard of FirstName MiddleName MiddleName Surname Suffix format. (Yeah, it’s two middle names.) I am named after my father, and even though his suffix is “Sr.,” my parents very purposefully chose not to name me “Jr.” (thank goodness). My suffix is, therefore, “II.”
Now, I’ve had this name for all of my 36-and-some-odd years, and, outside of sometimes using initials for my middle names, I’ve always used it this way, very clearly and painstakingly writing out the “II” so that it actually looks like “II” and not “III.” Why, then, do I sometimes get things addressed to FirstName MiddleName MiddleName Surname III? WTF? I mean, really, people, I do know my own name. I realize that, in that parallel universe you call reality, no one in the 21st century could possibly possess the suffix “II,” but trust me, we’re out there. And really, when our names are plainly written down by us, please remember this: reading is fundamental. It ain’t just a slogan anymore.
This is the other thing that gets me:
With all of the technological advances we’ve made, you’d think that the State of New Jersey would be able to devise a way of putting people’s full names on their driver’s licenses. You would be wrong. My last convo with the DMV went something like this:
DMV: We can’t put all this on your license.
Me: Oh, why not?
DMV: It’s too many letters.
Me: Oh, yeah, I understand that. Then you can just use FirstName MiddleInitial MiddleInitial Surname II. (Both my first and last names are six letters each, BTW).
DMV: It’s still too long.
Me (looking over the top of my glasses, eyebrows raised, esp. since the state in which I’d previously lived didn’t have this problem): You’re kidding, right?
DMV: No, I’m not.
Me (trying to keep my eyes from rolling permanently into the back of my head): Well, okay, I’ll be happy with just FirstName Surname II.
DMV: We have to have at least one middle initial since that’s on your birth certificate.
Me: Okay, you can use my second middle initial (since that’s what my nickname is based on).
DMV: We can’t do that. We have to use the other middle name since that’s the first one on your birth certificate. (In other words, “Eff you, bee-yotch. You don’t tell us what to do. You’ll take what we give you, and you’ll like it.)
Me (wondering if this is the point at which I point out the inconsistency in their rules—either they *have * to use what’s on my birth certificate, or you don’t): Sigh. Well, if that’s what it has to be, that’s what it has to be. (Just give me my goddamned license so I can make my escape from this den of stupidity y’all call a DMV.)
So, I get my license, and what does it say? FirstName (first) MiddleInitial Surname 2nd. “2nd?” WTMuthaF?! 
Oh, and here’s another thing (and I’m so sorry for hogging here, but I trust that all of you peeve d’nomme folks will understand).
When I introduce myself to you as, say, Robert, I intend for you to address me as Robert. Not Rob. Not Bob. Not Bobby. And sure as holy hell not Robbie. I mean, really, how difficult is this to understand? I don’t shorten your Michael to Mike unless you request that I do otherwise, so do me a solid, please, and don’t eff with my name. And if you askfor permission to shorten it? Well, I really appreciate that you asked, but I’m pretty attached to it, so you’re chances aren’t looking very good.
Thankfully, the people who’ve made this mistake have tended to take the correction in stride. (But, then, I tend to be all Southern and sweet about it, even though I might be fuming inside at the display of such unbridled impudence.)
Finally, here’s one that really boils my blood.
Professionals—this includes, well, strangers, really, by which I mean law enforcement, medical providers, store clerks, customer service reps, basically anyone who’s not a friend, peer, or colleague (‘cept maybe for my professors, ‘cause I’m not a complete fool): When I address you, I address you as “Officer,” “Doctor,” “Mr.,” “Ms.” or whatever the appropriate honorific might be. Is it asking too much that you do a little quid pro quo and address me as “Mr. Surname”? (Or am I the only one who learned in my youth that this is proper and expected behavior?) I understand that your professions train/encourage you to establish “rapport” with your customers (or whatever the hell we are to you) in order to make them feel more comfortable, but guess what? You can make me feel comfortable by treating me like the thiseffin’close to middle age grown man that I am, and not your coffee-klatch girlfriend. You’re probably very nice, but I don’t need your friendship (I already have a handful of people that I can actually tolerate and who can actually tolerate me)—I just need our business to be transacted as courteously (and, cops, no handcuffs, please—well, not unless you’re really cute) and as efficiently as possible. Thank you.
And thank you, Dopers, for reading this patiently. I promise, I’ll gladly repay you the five minutes the next time I get paid. 
Okay, I’m spent. Please carry on.
“I. . . don’t know. . .”
I now use Jahdra as part of my email address and no one imagines that they know how to spell it, so they ask me.