My voice sounds exactly like the one of my mum. When I was young, this was rather funny. As soon as I picked up the phone at home and answered the call with my surname, friends of my mother used to start telling stories instantly. That way one gets to know interesting things! However later, the tide turned and the same happened the other way round: My friends called, my mother picked up the phone and they immediately started telling details about the last party. In the age of mobile phones, this problem solved itself. Neither my mother nor I do have a land line connection. We both have very deep contralto voices. It often happens that someone greets me as “Mr Merz” when I call somewhere. And rather often it happens when I introduce myself as “Ms Merz”. Then I consider correcting the person. If I do it, the response is usually an endlessly long and embarrassed apology. Then I say: “Listen, it does not matter on the phone. If I’m standing in front of you and you still call me “Mr Merz”, THEN I would feel slightly unwell.

My first name is not exceptionally original, but at least not easy to confuse with. At least one would think so. However for whatever inexplicable reasons, there are people who consistently call me “Manuela”. It seems to be all about the ending ELA! This mix-up usually just happens to German native speakers. An English speaker never mixed up my name so far. It is most strange when I write someone an email. There it is, in writing Michaela Merz. Regards, Michaela. The reply starting with „Dear Manuala“ always makes me think. How does such a mistake happen?! Whatever, I am not very sensitive in that regard. One could also call me “Irene”, “Marie” or “Eugenia”. For me a name has too little identification and thus a mix-up cannot really hurt me.

The best story of a mix-up happened when I was travelling with the AISEC (organisation of business students) in Norway. 6 busses full of students, who did not know each other, arrived in a youth hostel near Oslo. Our names were read out and we were assigned a room. I heard the number and went to the respective room. There were two bunk beds and I was the first one. I chose the bed on the top, put my things on the bed and went out for supper. Sometime later, in the middle of the night, I returned from the following party. It was dark and I went to bed and fell asleep immediately. When I woke up in the morning I realised that I was sharing the room with three male students. I explained to them that I am not fond of mixed room occupancy and occupied the bathroom. Is it turned out later, the room allocation had been a mistake. Norwegians consider “Michaela” a guy’s name. But thanks to that mix-up, today I have two good male friends: one in Italy and one in the US.

Long live mix-ups!