I’ve got a weird middle name: Pouchet. (“Poo – shette”) There’s no explanation for it. My mom simply liked the name and decided it would be a great moniker for her one and only child. The name was torture as a child. Everyone else had names like Ann or Marie. Mine was odd, and wasn’t even pronounced the way my French teacher said it.
In college, Pouchet was unique. I was proud when I had to tell people my name two or three times for them to get it right. My male friends – not boyfriends – thought it was hilarious. They quickly began calling me Pouchet all the time. Then, it became Pouch. Then, somebody got drunk and uttered “Patch” one night. It stuck. For all four years of college, plus any get-togethers to this day, my name has been Patch.
All of this is to say, when I found out there was a company called Patch hiring freelance writers, it was a sign. I applied for every job for which I was remotely qualified at Patch. And, I’m proud to announce that Patch is now writing for Ashburn Patch.