I have a weird name.
For those outside my family and group of friends who haven’t known me forever, the first one is pronounced “Ray” and the family name rhymes with “Yes person” (in fact, that’ll just help you pronounce it the way it would be in its native Denmark, and other Nordic countries). But of course the first one has at least one extra vowel than people expect to see for its pronunciation — that one’s Dutch, after my great grandfather on my mother’s side, which starts to make some sense: The Dutch love their vowels — and the last name isn’t something most people are familiar with like a Smith or a Jones or Washington, or whatever. It’s got just enough of a touch of the exotic, plus enough letters that sound like other letters, that it’s easy to misspell (Jesperson, Jefferson, etc.)
It’s been a low-key issue for the bulk of my life.
What I hadn’t known was how much bigger a pain it would cause farther down the line.
It was just as Covid was becoming a thing in North America that I decided on which new email service provider to go with to finally get away from the snoopiness of my Gmail account. Briefly, Google’s bread and butter is knowing and selling everything its users do that they can then package in granular detail and sell to advertisers, which has become pretty antithetical to what I’ve wanted for myself and my loved ones in recent years. So since their Android phones are constantly feeding them a ton of such information, I switched to an iPhone (Apple collects a lot of user data but doesn’t often sell any of it). And since part of the agreement of using Gmail is that Google can of course scan the contents of every email you send and receive to glean even more information about you, I changed my email service to a company that doesn’t do that.
But one thing that hadn’t occurred to me is that, Um… hey, if this Covid thing ever becomes a real problem here, I’m going to be spelling out a variation of my already wonky, easily misunderstood name plus my now longer-named email provider through a muffling mask.
And also through a muffling barrier between me and other people.
For years.
… so yeah, in retrospect, something shorter and quippier may have been the way to go.
But another angle on what else I hadn’t considered has also come to fruition: My name is so unusual, and my email service, while becoming ever more popular and more widely used, is still so relatively unfamiliar, that it’s sometimes a problem with transmitting email.
The problem is with spam filters.
For those who are particularly un-tech-savvy, a spam folder is that one place in your email interface that is where the email service provider tries to send email that looks like it may be scammy or otherwise from someone you don’t know trying to sell you (and probably thousands, or even millions of others) a service or product with a pitch trying to draw you in.
I italicized “tries” up there because even the best spam filters on the planet don’t always do their jobs well. Which is why sometimes you still get spam in your inbox as if it’s legitimate. And it’s also why sometimes legit email that you should be getting in your inbox goes into the spam folder instead. There’s something about some people’s email addresses (or the contents of the email itself) that the spam algorithm, the one in charge of determining whether or not incoming email looks legit, determines is probably bad or unwanted news and reroutes into your spam folder.
It’s that last part that has been affecting me occasionally, and really bit me hard recently.
I’ve known that some people I’ve sent email to for the first time, both with my old Gmail account and my new ProtonMail account, have ended up finding my email in their spam folder. I wasn’t doing anything wrong or suspicious in the emails, but there was a certain je ne sais quoi that their spam filter felt smelled off, and so my email ended up in the one folder that people don’t often (if ever) check, let alone routinely: Spam.
Well, it happened to me again, to my detriment.
I’ve made no secret out of the fact that I’m looking for other work, specifically something that has better hours, has more hours, pays better, isn’t too far away, and isn’t as physically intensive as the LCBO is. Or ideally, a combination of all of those things. Particularly during our recent strike, especially when it seemed it may go on longer than the day or two that some of us thought it would max out at, I was definitely stepping up the job hunt.
No idea when we’ll be back to work?
Or even if we’d be back?
Time to make tracks and find something else I can do, ASAP.
One of the jobs I applied to hit every one of those ideal criteria for other work: Pretty nearby office work, with office hours, that paid more (potentially way more) to start. It also happened to be work that I had a lot of experience in, so I’d thought I had a solid chance at it.
I applied by email the day I saw the job posting.
I did find it a little odd that I didn’t get so much as an acknowledgement email in reply, one of those automated “We got your email and someone will get back to you soon”-type messages that at least lets you know that what you sent is in their system. But then, I know that not every company has that set up. So hey, maybe they don’t. Meanwhile, onward with the job hunt.
Because it’s still a standard expectation, I let two somewhat anxious weeks go by — anxious not only because it seemed like it was a really good job for me and I didn’t want to miss out on a shot at it and I hadn’t heard about an interview yet, but in a whole other way because the strike had overlapped almost those same two weeks — before I sent another email to the company that had posted the job. Just a quick, polite follow-up to check on if they had received my application and if they had gotten in touch yet with all people they wanted to interview.
But as that day turned into another and then another, I didn’t get an email back in reply to that query, either. I know that more and more companies don’t contact people they aren’t interviewing, which kind of sucks for everyone left hanging but which I understand, because they don’t always have the means or inclination go through a stack of tens or maybe hundreds of applications and contact each person individually to say they didn’t make the cut for interviews.
But to not have gotten any reply to asking if I made the cut?
That was a little odd.
I figured it was time to step out of my comfort zone and go old school.
Reader, it was time to make a phone call to them.
A pleasant-sounding woman answered after just a couple of rings, and I quickly summarized how I had emailed them my application but hadn’t heard back and that I knew that it could just be that I wasn’t chosen for an interview, but that I thought that just maybe my email went to their spam folder and so had been overlooked completely and so could someone there just do me the favour of checking if that was the case?
I should say that in the back of my mind this whole time, I was thinking that if my email had in fact gone into their spam folder, someone there could be nudged to hunt for it and then just maybe pluck it out, just maybe look it over for the job application, at that point see that I have abundant experience for what they need, and so of course — given the application was sent within their needed time frame — give me an interview which I would hopefully ace in order to get the best-paying job I’ve ever had that would let me have dinner with my family every night again instead of just sometimes, as is a downside of this LCBO work.
That’s what was going on in my head for over two weeks leading up to this call.
What wound up happening was something I frankly hadn’t considered.
The woman who had answered my call was in fact the very person who had gone through all the applications and had already picked the first wave of interviewees. And she said that she definitely didn’t recognize my name. So she agreed it probably went to the spam folder.
I stayed upbeat and positive and said that hey, yep, totally understand that. Happened to me before, etc. So… yeah, was there any chance that, since my application had been sent in when they were accepting them, and since it was clearly just a technical glitch (unspoken: on their system) that put my application in their spam folder, could it maybe be added to the list of applications they got?
… and I was told that… yyyyyeah, so as she had said, she’d already gone through the applications and had been in touch with the people who made it to the first interview.
There was a moment of silence after that, in which I was hoping she would jump in and say that, given my application was done the right way and it was only due to, let’s just say, a technical problem on their system, that she’d make an exception and at least take a look at my application.
That didn’t happen.
What did happen was me realizing this was the end of the conversation, and so the end of road for my having any chance at this solid job opportunity.
What did happen was me stepping into the hanging silence and saying that… yeah, I understood. And that I thanked her for her time. And to have a good day.
Then I hung up and ranted.
Because beyond that woman’s unwillingness to cut me a break — she owed me nothing, of course — the whole and only reason this happened at all was because my legitimate email was sent into their spam folder.
And that was when I was finally determined that what I needed was an email address less likely to cause a system to reject it as valid. I kind of get why an algorithm would look at an oddly spelled name at an email service provider it hadn’t heard of and think it raises enough red flags to be put down as spam. What I need is an email address that won’t do that. Or that at least is less likely to do that.
I should clarify here that I’m not stopping using ProtonMail. It’s a solid service provided by very dedicated people and they should be lauded for what they’re doing and continue making a good living doing it.
What I’m going to do is get another email address that hopefully won’t make spam filters hiccup, and then point them to forward any incoming email to my ProtonMail account. That’s what my long-standing Gmail address has been doing for years now.
I just need to use a simpler email address that gets forwarded to the more complicated (but very private) email address, and can reach out to the requisite companies I’m applying to with it.
Badda-bing.
But while that’s a solid solution to the problem, it’s actually just the first step to it. And this is where it gets a bit tricky.
Ideally, what I want is an email handle that is quick and easy to convey and spell for anyone who needs to hear it and type it out. We’ve established that my hodgepodge European name, combined with a lengthy email service provider name, is not only a pain to verbalize but also type out for myself and others (let alone properly). What I need is basically the opposite of that: Something I can say once and people will get and type in properly the first time. Hopefully that will also be something that doesn’t trigger spam filters, although that may still happen and may just be yet another technological bane of my existence.
Now, while easy to say and hear and write, I don’t want the email address to be a problem for anyone, because this is going to be on future job applications.
“Please accept the attached resume as my application for this job [that pays $75K]. I can be reached at punkasswhitey@gmail.com”
Yeah, no.
But while not risk being offensive or misconstrued, I also don’t want it to be too cutesy or silly.
toothgaps@gmail.com — got’em.
tubesocks@gmail.com — wear’em.
penguinguy@gmail.com — love’em.
When I was in high school and had been on the burgeoning internet for a while, I was using the alias Maelstrom. That’s all fine and well as an email handle that isn’t offensive or eye-rollingly cute, but the sad truth of it is that my wife teaches early grade school and is seeing an increasing trend in kids who can’t read or write, sometimes not even their own name, even in grade 3 (with all due blame squarely on one provincial government after another gradually lowering expectations of what kids need to accomplish to move onto the next grade, paired with making it increasingly hard to fail kids to have them repeat grades, even when they demonstrate they really should).
All of which is to say, Maelstrom isn’t bad for an email handle, but again, good luck having to spell that now and to future generations with any hope they’ll spell it correctly.
… I should say, though, that while I don’t want anything cutesy or silly, there are some edging into that category that I wouldn’t really mind. One of the regular listener contributors to the Dumb People Town podcast (which is a great podcast if you don’t mind swearing) has the Twitter/X name “latenightnachos”.
That’s pretty good.
It’s quick and easy to spell — say it once and people get it and will be able to spell it themselves the first time, probably without typos — and while it’s maybe a bit flippant, it’s not embarrassingly bad or childish, or anything. And while it’s not superduper professional (he says, having just written “superduper”), it’s not horrible to be putting on a job application.
Solid.
But I have to say, the few options that I’ve tried in setting up a new Gmail account have already been taken. Which isn’t surprising for what I think is still easily the most widely used email service on the planet, but that just makes it even trickier to find something I can use.
Easy to convey and for everyone to spell, not silly or childish or otherwise embarrassing, plus is still available for someone to use?
All that adds up to a taller order than I was expecting.
It was in day two of my trying to come up with a new email handle that I realized that, like so many other things in my personal life, I was overthinking it.
Hey… overthinker@gmail.com?
Not bad.
But… hold on, wait, no. This is going to be on job applications. One thing I’m sure those looking for a new employee don’t want is for an applicant to refer to themselves as an overthinker.
So that’s out…
rayjay@gmail.com — taken
mydogsnores@gmail.com — not bad but maybe a but cute, but anyway I’d be surprised if it’s not taken
writerguy@gmail.com — not bad but a) probably taken and b) a bit casual anyway, given I’m also applying for writing work, plus “write” is a homophone: It sounds exactly like a differently spelled word, so that could trip people up when I verbalize it
tabletop@gmail.com — like, the tabletop games I like playing (and am working at making). Not great but not terrible, though if it’s still available, it does maybe suggest something a bit retailish (like a countertop seller), which may trigger spam filters (although who knows? Maybe I’m just… overthinking it…)
… like I said, not as easy as I was expecting.
If you have any suggestions, kindly send them to what’s still my main Gmail address and still forwards emails to my longer ProtonMail address: reay.jespersen@gmail.com