Mr. A

Somewhere in January I met a person.  Let's call him Mr. A.  He is a nice person.  We first met at a fast food joint.  We had a good chat.  From our conversation I can tell that Mr. A is intelligent.  From the words and phrases he uses, I gather that he is humble and with good train of thoughts  I have met him altogether four times now.  Each time I never immediately realize that he is Mr. A.   

The first time he came in cotton shorts and T-shirt.  He was more than very casual.  Just the type of clothes you would wear at home.  Simple but presentable.

The second time he was in casuals.  But this time it was the type of casual clothing you would wear for an outing.  I did not recognize him.  I actually greeted him, shook his hand and told myself he looked familiar.  I only realized he was Mr. A when I asked a friend later while driving off.

On our third encounter, he came dressed up in office wear.  So I can forgive myself because I have never seen him in office attire. I knew it was Mr. A only because we were expecting him to arrive.  When he arrived, I took a good minute before my brain registered that it was him.  He looked different in office attire.

Over the weekend we met again.  This time I again cannot recognize him immediately.  His hairdresser has given him a new image.  Mr. A now now spots short and thick jet black hair.  Attire?  Long sleeves and small checkered pants like what the chefs normally would wear.  But this one I am sure is branded and still is in vogue.  The pants was slim and tight.  I thought he looked dashing.  Obviously he was the most well dressed person for the outing.

I have met Mr. A on four different occasions.  He spotted four different image.   It took me a while before I realized that he was Mr. A.

I thought I was just bad with names.  Now I realize I am just as bad with faces.  I am sure I would fail miserably if I was required to pick the thief out from the suspect identification parade.