My dad called me just now, and I had a hunch he might try to carry on a conversation while avoiding all names and nicknames for me entirely.

(The last time that my dad called me “Snooks” over the phone, I ended the call. So I wasn’t surprised that he might try to find another “loophole” to try to call me without actually having to use my name.)

Sure enough, he plowed ahead with his plan:

ME: “Hi, this is Ashley.”

DAD: “Hi. How are you?”

ME: “Hi Dad. I can see what you’re doing there. And that’s not okay either. I’d like you to call me by my name.”

DAD: “We’ve discussed this.

[beat]

“So how has your week been going?”

ME: “Dad, we can talk more about this when you’re ready to call me by my name. Goodbye.”

This time around, I didn’t offer a one-one-thousand grace period before I said goodbye—I was so sick of the “We’ve discussed this” bullshit that I just wanted to get off the phone as soon as possible.

Oh, and for anyone curious, the call lasted 31 seconds.