Identify Yourself

I have a terrible time remembering names and faces. My memory has never been that good, and the older I get, the worse it gets. I realize that not recalling names is a common social problem, but it's especially difficult for me because I interact with so many different groups of people: family members, friends, Card Player associates, all sorts of poker players, and, of course, my legion of fans.

I dread it when people I can't place come up to me and say, "Hi, Max." Hoping to identify them, I frantically listen for clues. If they ask, "Can you stake me in today's tournament? It's my best game," I know they're just railbirds and I can walk away. If they ask, "Have you seen Ralph lately?" I assume they're players from Ralph the Rattler's home game (or ex-players, more likely; the Rattler has a master's degree in alienating people). If the speaker warns me, "If your articles don't get better, we're giving your space to Dirty Wally," I know it's either Barry or Jeff Shulman, whom I can never tell apart. If the person asks if I'd like to buy a personally autographed copy of his book, it has to be Oklahoma Johnny Hale.

But, most of the time, these people just rave on about how much they love my column, how it's the only thing worth reading in Card Player, and so on. Now, in all probability, they're groupies who have just reached the high point of their lives by meeting a celebrity like me. If they're trembling with excitement and stuttering, that's a pretty good clue. But I still have to be on my guard. Once somebody walked up to me in a casino, raved about my writing for half an hour, and then asked to borrow $20. And, even if one is a groupie, he might be one who exchanged a few words with me 10 years ago, and now expects me to remember him. I'm a very sensitive and compassionate person, and I hate to appear snobbish or offend anyone, even a nobody. And who knows? The person might want to buy a copy of my book.

Therefore, I have the choice of calling the stranger "pal," "buddy," or, in Vince Burgio's case, "chief" (which he detests), or I can bite the bullet, hope he's someone I never met before, and simply ask him his name. This doesn't always work out too well. Once I asked someone who looked vaguely familiar what his name was. He looked at me oddly. "Ira," he finally replied, "I'm your brother."

I don't know why I'm like this. I prefer to believe that my mind is so active that it's working at several levels at once and tends to skim over minor details like people's names. My sweetie has another explanation: I'm senile. Whatever the reason, brilliance or attention deficit disorder, take your pick, it causes me no end of social embarrassment.

Perhaps the worst case involved Diane from Green Bay, an attractive lady with a very sweet disposition. Diane, you may recall, was filmed for a television program as an amateur playing in the initial Tournament of Champions event two years ago. I watched her on television, I've been introduced to her by my sweetie, I joined her and Linda Johnson at dinner during this year's World Series of Poker, and I still wasn't sure who she was. When she later ran into Barbara and me and complained about my not remembering her, my sweetie, unbelieving, demanded that I say who she was. I frantically ran through every female name I could think of, and got a punch in the stomach (from my sweetie, not Diane) for every wrong guess. "Sue? Ouch! Gracie? Ow!" Then Diane from Green Bay broadcast my mental deficiency to the whole poker world by posting on rgp and saying that she enjoyed Max Shapiro's daily World Series write-ups, "even if he can't remember my name."

Hey, look, lady, it's not my fault that you don't have any distinguishing characteristics such as scars, tattoos, green spiked hair, or even a simple nose ring.

That's the trouble – everyone looks alike to me. You see one face, you see them all. Oh, I've tried. I once bought a book called How to Remember Names and Faces. The book's main theme is association. It tells you to look for distinguishing characteristics in the person's name and appearance, and to link them together in your mind. The first time I tried it, I was introduced to a man named Harold Bass. Easy, I thought. Bass is a fish and he looked kind of fishy to me. So the next time I met him, I blurted out, "Hi, Mr. Fishhead!"

It would be nice if everyone would wear a casino badge with his name, but I guess that's too much too ask. So, let me make a suggestion. When you walk up and greet me, say, very slowly and clearly, something like: "Hello, Max. Remember me? My name is Sol Brown. That's spelled B-R-O-W-N. We met last week on an Alaskan poker cruise and shared a helicopter ride to a glacier. When you fell into a hole in the ice, I ran and got assistance and helped pull you out, and you said you'd never forget me for saving your life. That night we all had dinner together and you had too much to drink and fell overboard, and I threw you a flotation device, and you said you would never forget me for saving your life twice in one day."

If I still look blank, start over and talk more loudly. My other problem is that after years of Dirty Wally shouting into my ear, I don't hear too well, either.

One favor, though. My memory may be bad, but don't try that old trick of asking if I remember your loaning me $200.