Recently, I called about setting up a new account with a company I've never dealt with before. The young woman on the phone (probably younger than my kids) said she couldn't do it in my name with my husband 's because we had two different last names. I almost dropped the phone but managed to sputter, " but we're married!"
No deal. Their system couldn't handle it, even though women have used their real names, not their husbands' last names, since I was a youngling in the women's lib movement. I've handled all the prior incredulity over our different last names with some aplomb and a modicum of grace, I like to think, over the past thirty years or so. My own mother gave me grief, and she was quite the feminist.
But for some reason, this recent impasse really ticked me off. I was fuming around until my husband (to whom I offered my last name when we married, but he declined ), placed it in perspective for me.
" How 1950s of them, " he chuckled, and went back to what he was doing. Okay dear, I get your point. I can't control antiquated thinking. Rant over.
But I can't help thinking how odd it is that I can write under multiple names, and no one blinks an eye.