Knowing I'd have to spell it anyway, I said, "C-U-N-O."
She dug through a stack of printouts. "Steven?" she asked.
"Steve," I said.
She pointed to the printout. "Well, it says 'Steven' here."
I was a bit taken aback. "My mistake," I finally said. "For a moment, I thought I might know what I prefer to be called."
"Yeah," she said, the irony—OK, the sarcasm—clearly lost on her. "It's 'Steven.'"
I've been this organization's loyal customer for six years. Not because of great service at the reception desk.