People will occasionally try to call me Janie. I am a lot of things, Janie is not one of them. If the look I give them doesn’t get the point across, I will say something about how only my dad calls me Janie. Since your family doesn’t use the “Liz” nickname, you’d have to fib a bit, but I will say it has worked well for me.
I guess I should have just stopped at the first part, the only part that actually bugs me. The rest was just musings about my internal process, which shouldn’t be vocalized!!
Ha. I have a cousin Richard. We all grew up calling him “Dickie.” For some reason, now that he is an adult he insists on being called. “Richard.” Who’d a thought it?
Those of us that don’t want to associate him with one of the stupidest garments ever invented?
I once knew a woman named Lizbeth. I can’t imagine the hell that was her life.
My buddy’s fiancee does this not only to him but in conversation with everyone, and while it’s no problem with him (or me, for that matter) as far as I know, it always takes me a second to remember who the heck she’s talking about. “So Patrick and I were…” Who’s Patrick? You’re engaged to Pat, or formally, The Pat-Man (insert Batman theme here).
Hi, Liz!
People who do that should be hung upside down and flogged with a chain. It’s SO non-funny. It’s so non-funny that it hurts.
Shut up, D…oh hell. I can’t do that to you.
Another Liz hating Elizabeth here. I have many nicknames depending on when the person addressing me first knew me from. But. Don’t. Call. Me. Liz!!! I usually go by Beth these days, I try for Elizabeth at work, but only a few very smart people have caught on, so I settle for Beth. I do find that most people understand completely when I say, “Oh, please don’t call me Liz, I just hate that name…I had a great aunt who called me that, and she was allowed because she was soooo old and I loved her, and my uncle calls me that too, and again, he gets away with it, because I love him, but I just hate that name, so please don’t!”
This works because its long and boring and I say it every time. It’s true, but its also long and boring!
Ugh, indeed. I work with a woman who calls all the guys at work by their full name. Everyone else calls them Dave and Mike and Jeff, but she calls them David and Michael and Jeffrey. Like you, it rubs me the wrong way for some odd reason.
Me too. (I never played sports, so I never even got a “Shorty”-type nickname.) I was thinking about this topic a bit more, because for some reason it fascinates me that some people decide they can change your name for you. I think it has real undertones of asserting power over someone, which is why we get so annoyed about it.
I was thinking about the one person I can remember calling my Lise (Lees?) instead of Lisa, and he was one of those men who had no use for women unless they were panting after him. I noticed he called me that, even though we weren’t friends at all, and I realized that it was part of the reason I just felt uncomfortable around him. If I were to play psychoanalyst, I would say the fact that I didn’t flirt with him and make it clear that I was desperate for his attention gave me a sort of power over him, and he dealt with that unusual situation by becoming overly friendly with me.
“Oh, sorry. Call me Elizabeth, please, I grew up with a bunch of girls with the same name and I was the one they meant when they didn’t abbreviate it.”
(My name’s Andreas, but I’ll take Andy from the English-speaking world, because it really grates my ears to hear it pronounced by English-speakers)
Elizabeth is about the most beautiful name you can hang on a female. I love saying it.
Liz, however, sticks in my craw. It’s kinda reptilian.
Send an e-mail back saying “I’m sorry, Liz isn’t here. I’m Elizabeth, can I help you?”
For good reason, Sleestaks feel just opposite about this 
Just a quick sidejack…I briefly worked for the Elizabeth Taylor AIDS Foundation and anyone who knows her knows NOT to call her Liz…she hates that name. Friends and people in the foundation only call her Elizabeth.
I did it. I told her that my name wasn’t Liz. Well, since I had to do a “reply to all,” I told her, her supervisor, who also called me Liz :mad: , some guy named DaShaun, and my co-worker who’s never called me Liz but at least knows now that I don’t like it and won’t hesitate to let other people know this.
I would have done the “I prefer Elizabeth” thing but the supervisor used some really annoying corporate double-speak on me, so I thanked her for the information (though I didn’t mean it) and said “Also, my name is Elizabeth, not ‘Liz.’”
I have a niece named Elizabeth–her family calls her Lizard. I’ve often thought I would like to be an Elizabeth so I could be Lizard too. But then, I like reptiles.
I hate my first name. Have often thought about changing it, but haven’t gotten around to it because it would be a hassle. But I much prefer friends to call me by my nickname. Funny, one high school English teacher (upon whom I had a mad crush) used to call me by a unisex diminutive of my name, and I loved it. I’ve occasionally thought about going by that, but…eh.
I also have a friend I’ve known since college (20 years ago), who has lately started to go by his full name (for example, “Jonathan” instead of “John”–not his real name). Unfortunately, it’s just too late for a bunch of his friends who’ve known him as long as we have to switch. He might be “Jonathan” in his professional life, but to us, he’ll always be “John.” He doesn’t seem to mind.
Did anyone reply?
I’ve been thinking about this thread, and noticed that I love the name Elizabeth, and I prefer it to Liz. My work email is elizabeth.lastname@blahblahblah yet my signature says ‘Liz Lastname’. I’ve begun to understand how confusing or irritating that might be to others!
I’m not sure I care enough to get everyone to call me Elizabeth instead of Liz, and seeing as most people call me by one of my nicknames anyway, I won’t do anything about it. But I wonder - is it egotistical to love the sound of your own name? 
I hope not–I LOVE my full name and while I didn’t like it when I was growing up, I now really appreciate the choice my parents made.