If it has the first three letters as the surname of a friend of mine, then I can sympathise with them finding it difficult to get out of the instinctive habit of writing the second syllable that way, and I can’t explain why 
I think I can do you one better. (not that this was a contest) My first name is Julie. You’d be surprised how many times, when asked for my name, the person taking it down writes July. July! :rolleyes:
If you’re female, then I’ve probably got the same name/spelling as you, Eureka.
And I run into the same thing.
My work email address is Firstname.Lastname@employer.com. I do so love it when people manage to get the email address right and still slaughter the spelling on the greetings.
Paging bear_napples!
:smack:
Only thing dumber than spelling someone’s name wrong is spelling someone’s name wrong while requesting time and/or money from them.
I’m female.
Diosa your name is beautiful and the people who work at Starbucks have just shown exactly why they’re still working there!
I’ve got the European spelling of a common name: I’m Stefanie, not Stephanie.** F**. Like “Fuck you if you get it wrong even after I spell it out for you”.
My last name is Eastern European and it has been butchered throughout my school life, whenever I get an award or something and it’s announced in assembly
“Stefanie … Boo…Jo…Vick?”
Congrats guy, third syllable was almost perfect. I won’t tell you get fucked on this one, coz it’s a real bitch to pronounce. Yeah, last syllable rhymes with ‘Bitch.’ Like me.
Why thank you- heaven know my mother agrees with you! I like it too, thankfully.
But oh man, if we’re going to talk about mispronounciation, I am regularly called:
Angie (grrrr. . . My freakin’ nick name is ANGEL, is Angie that much less work. Really?)
Angela
Angelica
Ang-uh-leak-eh
Ang-elle-uh-que
Rebecca (no, seriously, that happens a lot)
On and on. I’m tellin’ ya, it’ the Q that just blows people’ minds.
I once had a professor kindly ask the proper prounciation of my name. I said, “Most everyone says ‘Ang-uh-leak’.” She looked and me and said, “Right, but is it supposed to be that or is it supposed to be ‘On-sha-leak’?” Me: 
“I. . . don’t know. . .”
So that lead to the lamest phone call my mom’s every gotten from me: “Hey, uh, how do you say my name?” Mom: ". . . "
Good times.
I stopped caring years ago. I’ve decided to consider it a form of entertainment. I’ve gotten Mischell, Mishelle, Mischelle, Michelle, Michele, Mishel, and my supervisor at work is the worst offender lately. Every day, it’s a new and exciting spelling. I find the people who can’t pronounce it especially enjoyable. They usually think it’s pronounced with the emphasis on the first syllable.
But at least I have an easy to spell and say last name…or I did, until I got married. Now it’s way fun…I have a common first name with a weird spelling and a last name with a silent K and an O that isn’t pronounced with an O sound.
I usually know it’s my turn when I’m in a waiting room and the person calling people up comes out, looks at his/her paper, and there’s a looooong pause. Then I hear, “uhhhh…MISH-ell…ken-OCE?”
My first name is relatively common, and ends in Y, but people have been known to spell it with an I often enough that I notice. Unfortunately, it seems that there’s a common stereotype of young girls who decide to get cute and spell their given names with i’s dotted with hearts or that kind of thing. looks down at black T-shirt labelled with ‘Schrödinger’s Cat Is Dead’ on the front
And my last name is extremely unusual. Three letters long. I’ve had the US Government give me a passport with it ‘corrected’. :dubious:
I once had someone look me in the eye and say, “I took your name right off your check. It can’t be misspelled.” No, my bank spells my name correctly. I made them keep issuing checks and ATM cards until they got it right. It took 5 tries, but they’ve got it down now. At this point, I don’t even bother saying my name, I just spell it out for them. I am blessed with a first and last name that are difficult to spell and my last name is difficult to pronounce. Lately, I’ve noticed something funny at Starbucks; if they use the wrong vowel at the beginning of my name, they spell the rest of it right. If they start off with the right vowel, they mangle the rest of it.
I used to use a Yahoo email account using my full name. Easy, right? You wouldn’t believe how many people complained about email bouncing. It was so bad for a while, I once started spelling my email address out. To my mother. :smack: 
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.
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.
Another person here who gets bitter over the spelling of my name. My last name is only five letters, my first name is only five letters. Last name has a set two letters that is repeated. And people still spell it wrong!
[QUOTE=I’ve got the European spelling of a common name: I’m Stefanie, not Stephanie.** F**. Like “Fuck you if you get it wrong even after I spell it out for you”. [/QUOTE]
After over a half-decade of lurking, I had to join to profess my glee at finding another Stefanie (Stefanie-with-an-F is my full name whenever meeting someone for the first time). I was just lamenting today that another client is unable to replicate the spelling of my name in my signature and in the email address itself! I’m flummoxed. I always check! Isn’t that just good manners in making the effort?
It could be worse; there’s an activist in Winnipeg named Stefphany.
Both of Mr. S’s names are unusual, but not unheard of. Several well-known actors and characters share his first name, and his last name is a common English word followed by a common suffix that sometimes takes a -e at the end IF it’s pronounced with a long vowel, which in his case it is not. People are forever sticking that -e on the end, no matter how clearly we pronounce it, and even when it’s in print in front of them (he often just hands over his driver’s license to clerks filling out forms, etc., to avoid having to spell out both names).
On a list for copyeditors that I belong to, we were once discussing this very topic, and I mentioned Mr. S’s name and how people mangle it, even when seeing it in writing. I forget how many copyeditors, writing back to me in a discussion about misspelling names, managed to misspell a name they had encountered only in writing and whose spelling we were in fact discussing!!
No, they weren’t being facetious either.
First time I’ve seen a name that the person could answer ‘Yes’ to the question, is that with an f or a ph?
And the opposite applies, too. If I introduce myself as Jen, please do not call me Jennifer. I pre-date most Jennifers, thankyewverymuch, and have been called “Jen” since I was old enough to have an opinion. Heck, I’ve been “Jen” since it was necessary to spell “Jennifer” because it was (was! talk about dating oneself!) an unusual name.
Yes, I’m sure you think it’s a lovely name. I know you named your dear daughter Jennifer (and by the way, she’s 20 years younger than I am), and I do not care. MY name is Jen.
ahem Sorry. A bit of a hot-button issue, especially since it’s rare that anyone gets my still-uncommon last name correct, either.
My real name is Maverick. I have a coworker in another city that I have never met face to face but I talk to her or e-mail her at least 10 times a day. My name appears as the sender in Outlook. I also have a signature on every e-mail. She has never once spelled my name right. It is usually Mavrick (not so bad) or Marvick (not acceptable). Some of these e-mails go out to 20 people or more, all of which know how to spell my name, so I am surprised none of them ever mentioned it to her. I don’t really care because she means well and it would be a little awkward to bring it up after this long.
Pocito my long lost name twin!
matt_mcl that is the most painful mangelation (its a word dammit!) of my name I have ever heard. My name’s soul cries in response.
I have a lovely Welsh first name, three middle names and a Cornish surname. Some days I think my parents must have really hated me! I used to use my first name and surname but gave up because of the trouble people had with both spelling and pronunciation.
Then I got married and adopted a fairly standard English surname, at the same time I was using my last middle name…which I had on all my bank details etc. So that’s the name I continue to use long after my divorce. But there are still people who know me by my original first name…and still can’t spell it.
I give up.