Am I a Doppelgänger?

This is me. (Remember:  it’s late, people. Any traces of makeup have long since disappeared and I’m in my pajamas watching the Yankee game).

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(Happy me ^)

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(Annoyed at how my picture is coming out me ^)

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(Trying to make my eyes look bigger but coming off as creepy me ^)

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(A cross between WTF me and I may be insane me ^)

At least once a month, somebody somewhere insists they know me. This is a sample conversation of how the scenario plays out:

Complete and Total Stranger:  Don’t I know you from somewhere?

Me (checking them out): No.  Don’t think so.

CaTS:  Didn’t you go to Yale/Dr. X’s office/my senior prom?

Me:  No.  I get that all the time.  People always think they know me.

CaTS:  No, no.  I’m SURE I know you.

Me: Um, but I don’t know you.

CaTS:   Are you from Boston/around the corner/Mars?  Hey!  Didn’t you work at Shoprite/the Pentagon/my dentist’s office?

Me: No, really.  You think you know me. I just have a familiar face.

This goes on and on while the person insists they know me from somewhere, they won’t be able to sleep until they figure it out, and can I please recite my entire resume and life history so that they can ease their mind? I’m not sure what it is but many people think I look familiar. It happened again to me today at my son’s karate school. I felt pressured to tell a CaTS my employment history so that  he could prove to himself that he wasn’t crazy.

As I grow older and crankier, I’ve been wondering how I can play around with this phenomenon. Maybe I should act like the other person looks familiar to me, too, and ask twenty questions? No, I don’t have an aunt in Savannah, but I do have a great uncle in Poughkeepsie!  Have you ever been to Poughkeepsie?  No?  Umm, what can it be then?

Or maybe it would be fun to answer “yes” to their questions, for example:  CaTS:  Weren’t you on American Idol?  Me:  Why YES I WAS! That Ryan Seacrest is a real jerkoff! or CaTS:  Weren’t you at the Hoffman wedding? Me:  YES! Wasn’t the food terrible!

This could be a way for me to make new friends, hear new stories, break the ice. It would definitely be more entertaining than telling someone a hundred times that they do not, in fact, know me.

That’s it. That’s all I really wanted to put out there tonight.

Have a good night!

21 Comments

  1. I think I’d be tempted to say, “I’m your cousin’s first wife. Thanks alot for reminding me.” and then I’d start sobbing and hanging on their coat and talking about the terrible things he did.

    This actually happened to me a lot when I was in my 20s and tending bar. The thing is? They did know me. But it was a huge bar (capable of something like 3,000 people at a time) and so I’d say, yeah, I’m the bartender. (And then they would go in to some conversation we’d apparently had … but buddy, 3,000 people. I don’t remember you unless you tip me $20 bucks a pop regularly. I still remember the guy who would come in and order champagne for his table and hand me a big bill and say, “Take care of us.”)

    This was hysterical/funny/rolf-worthy.

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    • Money buys everything, huh?

      Working in a bar that huge (even if it was awhile ago) with that many people around was probably great for the creativity- stories all around you. It would have been fun to do the fake out in that scenario. “Yeah you know me! I’m your bartender! You tried to pick me up and then you threw up all over the floor!”

      My brother was a bartender for many years and always had interesting stories about people. There’s a blog called “Break Room Stories” where anonymous restaurant/bar workers post crazy stuff that happens and it’s quite entertaining.

      Like

      • When you’re working for tips, money buys memory and going to the front of the line. The thing is, most servers/bartenders only make like 2 something an hour. So yeah, memory money buys. Ha! Nothing else, though.😉

        It’s true! By the end of the night, I apparently got better and better looking. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for my clientele.

        Thanks for the tip on the blog. Sounds fun.

        Like

  2. It has not happened recently but there are several clones of me running around this planet. I started thinking one day and came to the conclusion that I could be a series of failed experiments. Like Stitch.

    CaTS: Hey!! What are you up to Bryce?

    Me: Sorry, my name is Steve. You have me mistaken for someone else.

    CaTS: C’mon! Don’t try to be funny. How is work?

    Me: I am not…I am not this Bryce guy that you keep confusing me for.

    Man retreats down the 7-11 aisle.

    I begin to nervously look around. He is gone!

    I pour a cup of coffee and stir in the sugar and creme.

    CaTS (Peering around the corner): Hey Bryce! Don’t drink to much of the coffee!

    Me: Thanks but as I said before…My name is Steve.

    CaTS: See you later!!!

    Man seemingly disappears.

    Then a voice comes from around the corner

    …Bryce!

    It is pretty creepy isn’t it??

    Like

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