Midwest Memo
Mistaken identity
by Alan Shultz

I made myself at home in the magazine section of the bookstore the other day. I claimed a part of the wide varnished wooden ledge in the front window where the sun beamed in making a cozy little reading spot.

My wife and I are looking at kitchen designs these days and we're in the dreaming mode, not the buying mode. With decorating magazines running $5.95 a pop, it pays to thumb through an issue to see if the ideas outweigh the ads. That's what I was up to on this particular weekday afternoon.

I'd felt the eyes of the security guard on me as soon as I walked in the store. I figured she didn't have much to do and I was as good as anyone else to keep watch over. But still, was I really that suspicious looking?

After getting lost in thought over countertops and kitchen faucets, I looked up from a centerfold of shiny stainless steel dishwashers only to see the security guard was headed in my direction. I wondered to myself if I had overstayed my welcome.

"Do you know who you look like," the security guard asked?

"Well no," I replied.

"You look just like John McCain,"she said, "you could be his double."

Hmmmmmm, I'm thinking to myself, respected statesman, war hero, and then (insert trademark music from the movie Psycho) 70+ years old.

Now I'll grant you that 70 is certainly the new 55 and that "old" is more and more in the eyes of the beholder. I'm also all for waiting until one hits 100 before he or she is considered really old. But McCain is a decade and a half older than me, so if his 70+ is really the new 55+, then I got lost in the translation somewhere. Or, hard truth here, I just look a decade and a half older than I am.

Or, was it simply a case of mistaken identity and the security guard needing a new prescription on her eyeglasses? Of course, it has me wondering what a good eyebrow lift costs these days? That and the abs workout tape I'll be ordering off some late night infomercial. Finally, I think considering a red convertible for my bruised ego might be in order.

Mistaken identity, it can wind up being a compliment or simply ruining your day. It turns our mistaken identity can happen with mere sloppy typing, too. Let me explain.

I've been e-mailing a potential client on the East Coast about a real estate transaction here in the Midwest. This fellow and I have never spoken and we know very little about each other. One day recently the client, in a very round about way, asked me if I was originally from the Middle East.

It turns out that I consistently have misspelled my name in the several e-mails I've sent to this gentleman. The confusion is rooted in the fact that on the typing keyboard the letter "k" is right next to "l" and that the letter "b" is right next to "n." It turns out that when I'm in a hurry, or when I sit at the keyboard a little crooked, well, the guide keys can elude me. That's why Alan has wound up being Akab in many cases.

If the secret service ever comes knocking at my door I'll know it's for one of two very different possibilities. Either they are looking for a body double for John McCain or they want to see a current visitor's visa for this Akab fellow.