My Name is Michael, I Got a Nickel…

OK, this post has been a long time coming.

For over a decade, people keep asking me, “So, what is it: Michel? Michael? Mike? What?” (I prefer “Master,” but I digress.)

My wonderful wife calls me “Mish.” (Short for “Michel,” pronounced “Mish-al.”) In turn, I call her “Rish,” which is short for “Licorice.” The story behind it is, when we first met, a friend told us we were lovebirds, always together, inseparable. Like licorice.

(We still are! In fact, we even merged our businesses and created a new umbrella company, called “The Licorice Group, LLC.” Now there’s a twist!)

Anyway, here’s the thing.

My full name is “Michel Guy Joseph Fortin.” (Or just “Michel Fortin.” Just like this blog’s address.) It’s a French-Canadian name, as I was born in Gatineau, Quebec, oh, 40 years ago.

(In fact, that was the location of a long-time analytics package I used to use for my websites, until they were acquired by Microsoft, called “Deep Metrix.” To give you an idea, Microsoft is about to launch their metrics package to compete with Google, based on that package, codenamed “Gatineau.”)

Anyway, here’s the problem. Being in a bilingual country, most anglophone Canadians will instantly know that “Michel” can be male or female. But when I was introduced to my very first American client over a decade ago, he responded in a surprisingly confused and disconcerting manner:

“What?! But, you’re not a girl?”

This confused me at first, since the female version of the name requires an “e” at the end. Similar to Italian, Spanish, or any other Latin-based language, words that end with “a” are female, and “o” (or the lack of an “e” in French) are male. Like “Gino” versus “Gina.”

But this strange event happened again and again. It happened more times than I cared to count. So at a certain point, I felt compelled to do something about it, since I was getting tired of explaining myself.

And here’s what I did.

As a child, my French-speaking parents nicknamed me “Michael.” I even remember when they bought me my first 45-speed vinyl record, which was “Playground In My Mind” by Clint Holmes. (The chorus goes, “My name is Michael, I got a nickel…”)

I also remember when I took English immersion in junior high school. (Boy, do I remember!) When we were asked to introduce ourselves on the first day of school, I told my teacher, Sister Helen (yes, it was a catholic school and some of our teachers were nuns), that my name was “Michael.”

The principal was in class that day. (Ironically, his name was “Michel, too.) I remember Sister Helen looking at me, with a stern frown. She said in her disapproving voice: “Names are not translatable!”

Now, maybe she said that because francophone Quebeckers are very protective of their language and culture. (They even instituted laws to do so.) But little did she know that I was using the nickname my parents used so often, even when they, or I, couldn’t speak a smidgen of English.

I thought I was being smart by using it in class. (Luckily, I’m a quick study. I learned faster than any other kid in class. So Sister Helen was a lot gentler with me as time went on. I even became her teacher’s pet.)

And you know, for a lot of French Canadians it seems, calling a francophone person by the English version of their name often ends up as a nickname. It’s like a term of endearment, particularly when used by your closest friends and family.

(As a kid, when my parents used to call me by my French name — that is, my real name — it was like an alarm bell because I knew I was in trouble for something!)

I’m used to “Michael.” It’s my nickname. And it’s the name I use in business and the name I introduce myself with. Sure, it’s spelled “Michel.” But I pronounce it, and prefer, “Michael.” So if you ever wondered, now you know.

I hope this solves it once and for all.

Most French Canadians are bilingual. In fact, many francophone Canadians incorporate English words in their day-to-day vocabulary. (I know we did as kids in both grade and high schools. A lot.)

Here’s a perfect example. It’s also one of my favorite vloggers (i.e., video bloggers) on the Internet. This guy is from Montreal and he produces videos with claymation characters, with his own face superimposed. It’s the funniest stuff I’ve ever seen!

If you’re American or an anglophone Canadian, you’ll hopefully grasp at least 50% of what this next video says. (Just the video itself is a riot!) And if you’re Canadian or of French descent, let me warn you: you’re going to roll on the floor laughing your posterior off. I know I did.

Here it is: it’s a great satire of those direct response infomercials.

Last 5 Posts by Michel Fortin

• Social Media Isn’t Dead, But It Can Be Deadly
• How to Extract Doubt From Your Sales Copy
• It’s Not About Facebook, It’s About Integrity
• Did Larry Winget Go Overboard?
• The Oft-Confused Features And Benefits

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