There isn't any reason for these folks to know who I am. They aren't friends. We aren't neighbors. We don't have business. Besides, they tend to REMEMBER exactly who Mr. X is, and get me a seat. Forthwith.
The other day we went to El Charro's and an older man was taking the reservations.
"Mr. X", I tell him.
"Mr. Rex"? He repeats?
"No," I insist," "Mr. X."
"Mister Rex," he confirms, and I let it go. (I am NOT unreasonable about this.)
"If he calls for Mr. Sex," The redhead declared, "I'm leaving."