Simone-Ernestine-Lucie-Marie Bertrand de Beauvoir
I went to the radiologist for a cortisone injection yesterday. I have a sore foot. T’was administered under the guidance of an ultrasound, though that is to the side of the point of this notation.
Upon arrival [at the radiologist], I was asked to fill out a fairly standard form. Name. Date Of Birth. Etcetera. Etcetera. I filled out the details I thought necessary, and underwent my procedure. Before leaving the rooms, however, I was summoned back to the front desk.
“You didn’t specify a title. We need a title.”
“Oh? Oh yes, no, I noted ‘N/A’ in that section . . . I didn’t think it was necessary to -”
[Silence overshadowed by a disapproving you-are-wasting-my-time glare.]
“I suppose I can’t really be ‘non-applicable’ can I, ha . . . ”
[Silence overshadowed by increasingly impatient glare.]
“Sorry, but I don’t suppose I can choose ‘Mister’ can I?”
If I were a Sulphur Crested Cockatoo my crest would have fallen.
“Yes, thank you. Sorry.”
MR: I AM A MAN. (AS AN HONORIFIC MR DOES NOT DEFINE ME IN RELATION TO ANY SIGNIFICANT OTHER, MALE OR FEMALE.)
MRS: I AM A WOMAN WHO IS LEGALLY MARRIED TO A MAN.
MISS: I AM A WOMAN WHO IS NOT LEGALLY MARRIED TO A MAN.
MS: I AM A WOMAN WHO IS NOT MARRIED TO A MAN. (YOU MAY NOW SPECULATE ABOUT WHY THIS IS SO.)
IS THERE NOT YET, IN THIS DAY AND AGE, AN HONORIFIC THAT DENOTES: ‘I AM A PERSON. SURELY THAT IS ALL YOU NEED TO KNOW.’?
I am not a Sulphur Crested Cockatoo.