My name is Loretto. Not Lorett-a, Lorett-o.
Named for my paternal grandmother. The name is derived from the Italian town of Loreto, wherein is the Shrine of Our Lady of Loretto.
I’m not too surprised when I tell someone my name and they respond with “Loretta”. I simply correct them three or four times, then give up.
I am surprised when someone looks at my name in writing, and calls me Loretta, even though I should be used to it by now. People used to look at my name tag at work and call me Loretta. Or ask (or inform me that) if my name is spelled wrong. No. If it was spelled wrong, I wouldn’t wear it, Iwould go to H.R. and have them make me a new one. I finally gave up, and at my last couple of jobs, I’ve been having my last name put on my name tag (it’s one of those English last names that has become a trendy girl’s first name). One time, I snapped at a cow orker who called me Loretta one too many times. He started calling me Hortense after that (he generically calls any man Ignatz and any woman Hortense if he doesn’t know their name.) So, I went to H.R. and got a new name tag made… Yep, I actually go by Hortense at work now. On my shift, half the dice dealers have name tags with names other than their own on them. One guy has three or four name tags that he uses on various days, sometimes swapping them with other dealers. The boss lets us get away with it, but he drew the line when one dealer had a tag made up that said “Da’ Kid”. He said it was OK to have a different name on your name tag, but it had to be an actual name.
I made a contribution to the Diabetes association, and have since been getting letters from them addressed to someone named Loretta. I throw them away. I gave them two hundred dollars, they can spell my name right.
When I was taking job training classes back in Indiana, a professional secretary typed up my resume, spelling my name Loretta. Wouldn’t have minded so much, except she was Mexican, and Loretto is not an uncommon girl’s name among Hispanics. My job counselor, also Mexican, told me that he knew a lot of Lorettos, but I was the first non-Hispanic woman he had met with that name.
When I first wandered into my Italo-Greek Byzantine Catholic church, I met a lady named Grace. When I introduced myself, she said, “Oh, Our Lady of Loretto”, and has been calling me Laredo ever since. I’ve given up correcting her.
Since I moved to Vegas, I get called Laredo a lot. Please, how can you look at an L-O-R-E-T-T-O and come up with Laredo?
A couple of times, after changing jobs, or working an extra shift with a new supervisor, a floorman will ask if he can call me Amaretto. I say, “Yes, but you have to pour me a glass at the end of the shift.”
My step-cousin named her firstborn daughter Taylor. The kid’s last name is Williams.
Oy, vey.