Yeah, you know, Elias.

A day in the office

I work remotely. The trade off is I need to visit HQ every month or two. This works great for me, someone with a social battery that I can charge for a few weeks then burn through in one. Today was my first day in the office after a day of travel, bleh.

It was time to meet with my new VP. The org just had a leadership change and now my boss reported to someone else. It’s no big deal though, the new VP is Elias. He and I worked together before, we go way back. At the end of how was your flight and what’s the status of your projects pleasantries, I asked him about the large amount of interviews he’s sent my way.

He grinned. “Yeah, our old friend Elias is applying.”

“Elias? Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Yeah, you know, Elias.” He grinned harder.

I responded with a blank stare.

“You don’t remember Elias? ELIAS!”

I shrugged.

“Come on, Elias Thorne. He worked with us for years.”

“Never heard of him.”

“EEE-LIE-ASS THORNE”. He spoke louder and slower as if that frequency would penetrate my skull better.

“Oh, that Elias. He’s great.” I had no idea who he was talking about. But that seemed to satisfy Elias, so we left the meeting room and he darted off to another meeting.

As I walked through the moat surrounding the cubicle castle to get back to my loaner desk, people greeted me with smiles and nods of recognition. I did not know any of them.

Since I work remote, most of my interactions with people are over Slack or Zoom. Ninety percent of the hundreds of people I interact with don’t have profile pics and rarely turn their cameras on. With that many people, names repeat and overlap.

A guy stops me in the hallway. “Hey, did you get my DM? When do you think you can get to that?”

I get hundreds of DMs a day, all politely screaming about something. I have no idea who this guy is, but clearly, he knows me. The problem is, I’m tall—I literally stand out. Also, I have a damn pfp and turn my camera on. So half the company knows what I look like.

I couldn’t just say “Hi, what’s your name?” and hold out my hand as if I’m meeting him for the first time. I probably work with this guy every day, I just have never seen what he looks like before.

I peek at the name badge hanging off his belt, but it’s on his side and I can’t make it out. I needed to stall. “Um, I just got in. Give me a moment to get my bearings and I’ll get back to you on that.” As he says his thanks and walks away, I catch a glimpse of the badge: Elias. I’ll try and remember that by the time I get to my desk.

On the way to the desk, I spot a face I actually know. We talked when I was here last month and I know his name. But when I look at the placard on his cubicle, it said someone else’s name. That’s not the name I remember. I assume he’s sitting at a borrowed desk. If you don’t come into the office enough hours per week, you don’t get a permanent desk—you steal one while the owner is away. I walk over to his cube.

“Hey, how’s it going? That’s not your name.” I grinned and glanced down at the nameplate to indicate I was in on the joke.

He looked up, pulling off his glasses, tapping the tip of the arm against his lip, squinting his eyes in confusion. “That is my name. Elias.”

Too bad this building is wrapped in plate glass, because I need to toss myself out a window. I try to play it off, stressing the pronunciation.

“Oh, EEE-LIE-ASS of course. I’ve heard you say it before but haven’t seen it written.” Quick, change the subject before he notices. “So, uh, what are you working on?”

“I’m working on—”

I don’t know what else he was saying because I was wondering how fast I’d need to run at the window to pop a pane out. “Oh, that’s great. Good seeing you, I need to go meet with, um—Elias—I think.”

I dash off, hoping I don’t run into anyone before I get back to my desk to see what that DM was from… that guy in the corridor. Shit, what was his name? As I turned the corner, I bumped into that asshole from the second floor. “Oh, excuse me, Elias.”

“I’m not Elias, I’m Elias.” Elias says, disdain dripping from his tongue.

“Right, right, Elias. Sorry.”

As I walk away, he shouts back. “Hey, when will you have Elias’s request taken care of? He said he DMed you.”

“I’ll get to it today,” I replied, or something like that. I wasn’t sure because I was trying to duck into an empty meeting room and slide the door shut behind me before anyone else saw me.

I turned around to see eight people sitting at the conference table and a couple of giant heads on the large TV screens, all staring at me. I’ve never met him in person, but I’ve seen his picture on many emails, and there he was in the center, Elias Fucking Thorne, CEO.

Our eyes make contact and recognition turns into a bemused smile on his face. “What can we do for you, Edlias?”

“Oh, uh, sorry, wrong room,” I say as I walk out and slide the door, narrowly pulling my lips out of the way before it clasps shut. The CEO knows my name, was the last thought that went through my mind as I began running, building up speed, taking a leap, smacking into the plate glass window of the seventh floor, like a bird seeing reflected sky.

Author’s Notes

This is a true enough story. I am terrible with names, especially if I don’t have a face to go with them. Even if I meet people in person and I hear and repeat their name, I will forget it the moment I turn the corner. So, to me, everyone is Elias Thorne.

Substack is worse because there’s rarely a face to go with a name. I can remember pfps, but then y’all go and change them. I will forget your name, but I will remember you. Your essence will be on the tip of my tongue, I just can’t name it.

• The dragon that visited me and her person who draws a lot

• The vampire and wizard who fell in love but the author refused to write it so they’re now lonely forever

• The one with the witches and blood and a rad goat, and also off the wall erotica

• The chap that writes about a woman caretaker in a nursing home that borders on erotica

• The clearly not a man who writes about lesbian werewolves

• The guy with oozing pirates and starting a mobile bookshop

• The author who said we should all write about Elias Thorne

(I kid, but only a little. Obviously I know your name. Until you change you’re profile pic…)