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Walking the dogs in the park down the street, I often meet a man, Dr. X, who is on occasion wearing a fleece jacket with his name "Dr. X" embroidered on the left just above his heart and just underneath a patch identifying the pharmaceutical company that so graciously provided him with this personalized garment.
And, as great as is my horror at pharmaceutical companies and their unethical financial wooing of medical professionals, I shudder more completely at the idea of walking around with one's name pronouncing itself from one's chest, and not only one's name, but one's title as well.
Now, I can also append "Dr." to my name, and while I have no one wooing me with embroidered fleece jackets (or cheese baskets or scuba vacations for that matter), I could easily find some service that would embroider my name on any item of apparel I liked. But, why would I? What does sporting "Dr. NC" on my person do for me? What does wearing his "Dr. X" fleece do for Dr. X, aside from keeping him warm?
I only know what it does not do. It does not endear me to him. It does not fill my mind with pleasant thoughts about his character. It does not make me want to engage him in conversation except perhaps about his personalized fleece jacket.

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