Mission Possible, creating micro love moments

I know Shakespeare said a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, but in business, your name matters.

Remembering and using people’s names isn’t just polite – it’s a micro love moment.
Nothing is as special as when someone remembers your name. Yet, sadly, most people claim to be hopeless with names.

My clients always comment about my name-remembering superpowers (and storytelling skills). Strangely, no one ever comments on my modesty. Go figure.

Here’s my name-remembering secret sauce:

1. Channel your inner Bob the Builder (minus the helmet hair): Ditch the ‘I’m hopeless with names’ excuse faster than you’d swipe left on a bad Tinder date. Adopt the ‘Can we remember it? Yes, we can!’ mantra. It’s not rocket science; it’s just name science.
   
2. Go full-on sensory overload: Use at least three senses to lock in that name like it’s the last slice of pizza. Shake hands (touch), hear their name (auditory), maintain eye contact (visual), and repeat their name (verbal). Just don’t go full parrot – nobody likes a name-echoing weirdo. You must use at least three senses to anchor a name in your memory, or that name will fly away faster than your dignity at karaoke night.
   
3. Practice makes perfect (or at least less embarrassing): Start small. Learn two names today – your barista and the I.T. guru. Build from there until you’re the Yoda of name-remembering.

I humbly accept this best tip, kindly provided by Chris Huet, who says, ‘I found myself remembering names more easily when I committed to being outward-thinking and curious about others. When we’re caught in our own lives, it’s easy to forget others‘. Who knew empathy could be so practical?

Your mission, should you choose to accept it (cue Mission Impossible theme): Deploy these strategies and become a name-remembering ninja. Spread micro love moments like confetti at a wedding.

P.S. My personal best? 100 names in a room. Boom! But that was pre-Covid. Remember, in the game of names, you either win or you… awkwardly call someone ‘buddy’ for the rest of eternity.