Checking in to a hotel in the Lake District recently, mostly because I was a bit drunk and therefore a bit lairy, I did something I have never done before: I made use of the name badge pinned to the receptionist’s chest, and I called Vince Vince. As in: “So, what time is breakfast, Vince?” I should say I had never met Vince before.

Instantly, and only for a second, but it was long enough, Vince looked hurt. More than hurt, Vince looked humiliated. I felt ashamed. Thinking about it later in bed, listening to Windermere lapping at its shore, I concluded that neither Vince nor I were being overly sensitive. I think Vince was right to be hurt and Robert was right to be ashamed.

Presumably these badges, now proliferating not only in hotels, but also restaurants and shops, are meant to convey intimacy. They do the opposite. Vince couldn’t answer me back in kind, couldn’t say, “It’s 7.30 to 9.30, Bob, and 10am on Sundays”; my using his name actually emphasised, and increased, our lack of intimacy.

I lay there trying to imagine the circumstances in which I could employ the given name of a receptionist (or a waitress, or a shop assistant) without it sounding condescending or flirtatious or creepy or sarcastic or mocking or muscle-flexing. I couldn’t. I experimented with different intonations, sentence structures, accents even. Nothing worked, although, significantly, “So, what time is breakfast, Vince?” did sound quite convincing, pun intended, in an American drawl. On balance, however, in the act of doing something that is supposed to be the act of a friend, I turned myself into a sworn enemy. I decided I would never do it again.

American soldiers have their family name taped to their uniform. I can see that serves a useful purpose of identification in the field. Similarly with doctors and nurses in a large hospital. Similarly, it’s useful to know the name of your opponent in the close-quarter combat involved in phoning a call centre. They know your name, your mother’s maiden name, your address, your credit history, it’s only fair you have a little with which to fight back.

But is it worthwhile knowing the name of your receptionist, waitress, etc, if to use it would make you sound like an arse? I don’t think so. Certainly not worthwhile enough to violate Vince’s right to anonymity.

If that sounds hyperbolic, it’s worth imagining how you would feel with your name on your chest all day. You probably don’t need to imagine, actually, because most readers will have been to a training event or a conference with name tags. Sensible people find this at best infantilising, at worst, paradoxically, dehumanising, and will look to discard, or at least, disclaim, the badge at the earliest opportunity. I don’t suppose those in the service sector front line feel any differently. Vince doesn’t anyway. If there isn’t a campaign against this superfluous name-calling already, consider it started.

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