He looked at the name tag and rolled his eyes. “Excuse me, but–“
“Yes,” the woman behind the conference check-in desk said, sighing.
“My name.” He pointed to the tag. “It’s not spelled correctly.”
“What do you mean that’s not spelled correctly?”
He took a deep breath. Thirty-five years of dealing with people not knowing how to spell his name had not increased his patience. “My name is Steven Bouquet.”
She looked at the tag and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that’s what it says. Right there. Steven Bouquet.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, “but it’s spelled wrong.”
“Fine,” she huffed, grabbing a blank tag and magic marker. “Stephen Bouquet.” She handed him the new tag. “There. Enjoy your conference.”
He looked at the tag and shook his head. “It’s still incorrect, Miss.”
“Oh, good lord.” She lost her patience and slammed a blank tag on the table and pulled the cap off the marker. “Spell it!”
She stared at the tag and took a deep breath. “There you go, sir. Enjoy your conference.”
He took the name tag and smiled.
“Next!” she called.
A woman approached, smiling. “I would like to check-in please.”
“Sure,” the lady said, returning the smile. “Your name, please.”
The lady stared at the blank name tag, shook her head, quietly collected her things, and walked out of the Classic British Comedy Fan Club Conference.