However, I always remember one of the very first odd names from my first days of work.
When I first left school, I worked in two jobs as a young student, one was in a hardware shop in Port Melbourne and the other was a customer service job in Richmond. I remember in the first days of my customer service job, I was given a customer's paperwork and I had to call him up to the counter to help him with his issues. I walked up to the counter and looked down at his name on the paper work.
It said Mustafa Kunt.
I can tell you my young, naive eyes read that first name out as Must Have A... then, as I gazed at the second name I faulted noticeably, well I felt like I did. I am sure my face burned bright red. I am positive my fingers twitched. I wondered if somebody was playing a joke on me. A chill of nervousness ran down my spine. I looked around at my work colleges who were all busy doing other things and taking no notice of me. I turned back to the counter and a man of middle eastern appearance was standing directly in front of me, looking directly at me.
"Jes?"
"Oh, Mr K..., oh, um, er, oh...ah?" Nervous smile.
"Kunt. Mustafa."
How did he say that? Such a strong accent.
We eyeballed each other momentarily, which, I can remember, felt like an eternity.
"How can I help you Mr K..."
"Kunt."
"Yes, ah... how can I help you?"
Fortunately, despite my very best attempts to bring attention to his "funny" name, he seemed oblivious to the difficulties I was having.
"Vell, you see..." He directed my attention to his paper work that he laid out on the counter between us.
So, what was the pronunciation, I hear you ask? Well, Mustafa's very thick accent aside, to write it as he pronounced it, it would be something vaguely resembling Koont.
But, pronounce it how you want, he will always be Must Have A... to me.
I can tell you my young, naive eyes read that first name out as Must Have A... then, as I gazed at the second name I faulted noticeably, well I felt like I did. I am sure my face burned bright red. I am positive my fingers twitched. I wondered if somebody was playing a joke on me. A chill of nervousness ran down my spine. I looked around at my work colleges who were all busy doing other things and taking no notice of me. I turned back to the counter and a man of middle eastern appearance was standing directly in front of me, looking directly at me.
"Jes?"
"Oh, Mr K..., oh, um, er, oh...ah?" Nervous smile.
"Kunt. Mustafa."
How did he say that? Such a strong accent.
We eyeballed each other momentarily, which, I can remember, felt like an eternity.
"How can I help you Mr K..."
"Kunt."
"Yes, ah... how can I help you?"
Fortunately, despite my very best attempts to bring attention to his "funny" name, he seemed oblivious to the difficulties I was having.
"Vell, you see..." He directed my attention to his paper work that he laid out on the counter between us.
So, what was the pronunciation, I hear you ask? Well, Mustafa's very thick accent aside, to write it as he pronounced it, it would be something vaguely resembling Koont.
But, pronounce it how you want, he will always be Must Have A... to me.
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