There is a man at work named Larvas. (I'm not joking. His name is Larvas. If you or a person you love is named Larvas, you have my sincere condolences. If you have or are planning to name your child Larvas, you ought to be ashamed of yourself.)
Larvas is living, breathing proof that your name does not have to create your reality. (But be kind, just in case!) Sure, he wears really geeky glasses. OK, his hair is not super fashionable. And--he works as a custodian.
Larvas is maybe the most friendly, happy, non-weird man I work with. This is a man who answers radio calls, phone calls, and emails all day long about trash. He is the recycling, shredding, trash-can-delivery get-it-done man. And he is always cheerful. And he adores his wife. And he is grateful to have work. And he is trusted by everyone. And even the most irritated, impatient customers are glad to have such a pleasant man come to their rescue.
Larvas is a good man.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009