From the earliest age, I remember people having nicknames. My parents always had nicknames for us kids. In fact, one of my sisters I have hardly ever called by her actual name.  She has been known by a nickname since infancy.

My parents also gave humorous nicknames to everyone they met.  As a little girl, sometimes I didn't even realize they were nicknames. They fit their owners so well that I thought they were their real names!

This has carried on into my adulthood. My husband never calls me by my name.  My family never calls him by his name.  It has become so that until you get a nickname you're really not that intimate with us.  I even call my dogs by nicknames.

At work, I have a coworker who shares this. We have nicknames for everyone.  He has taken to reporting to me every man who neglects to wash his hands after using the bathroom, and those men are all now known as Tinkle Hands.

We know a Quasimodo. One guy makes odd wardrobe choices, we call him Peps.  We know a Chumley.  One of the best we ever came up with was inspired by someone's dream one night, and now one guy has since then been known as Baby Hands.  My old boss will forever be Sweet Brown to me (that's an old viral video!).  Many people we call by a series of initials, or the initials of the celebrity we have nicknamed them after. 

When I was in high school I took karate with my sisters and my mom. I remember the people by their nicknames and not by their real names.  We had Jonesie and Sweaty Pierre, and sometimes it was so second nature we would forget to address them by their real names!

The moral of this story is this: we are all going to be remembered for something, and that's the name people will call us, even if only behind our back.  Don't be a Tinkle Hands!