That’s not my name

They call me “Belle”
They call me “Stacey”
They call me “her”
They call me “Jane”

Phone rings at work.
“Hello, this is Brenda.”
“Uh, yes, hello. This is City of Forest Grove Light and Power and we have a printed report of your energy audit to send to you. I was wondering if you’d like me to send it to you at 1824 23rd Avenue or your P.O. Box.”
“Gee, I haven’t lived on 23rd Avenue since 2008. Have you been sending me the power bills for the correct residence since then, or have I been paying for someone else’s household?”
“Uuuuuhhhhhh. This is the only address I have for you.”
“I’ve lived on B Street since July of 2008.”
Silence.
“Anyway you can send the report to my P.O. Box.”
“What address is that?”
“The one you send my power bill to every month.”
Silence.
“Box six?”
“Oh, ok…six. You’ll have the report in a day or two. Thanks. Goodbye.”

They call me “quiet girl”
But I’m a riot.
“Mary” “Jo” “Lisa”
Always the same.

Mid-afternoon at the permits department…
“Ok, we spoke with the engineer and you won’t have to sign that form yet, but we cannot grant occupancy until you do. Here are your permits for plumbing, mechanical and building. Please sign each at the bottom.”
“That’s great but my name is Brenda and you have all the previous homeowners’ names on these permits.”
“Darn it! You know, I saw that earlier and was going to change it but didn’t. Let me reprint these.”

That’s not my name
That’s not my name
That’s not my name
That’s not my name