Since I do, in fact, have an extremely common name (heck, with a common surname and thus a raft of celebrities and sports figures that share it), I found this article particularly interesting.
Having a very common name has never particularly bothered me. Most times, I've actually enjoyed it.
Like one person quoted in the article, there's a sort of shallow kinship with all the other "Daves" out there. It was a common enough name at my college that we actually had a "Dave" club, led by our college president of the same name. One year there I roomed with another Dave, and of the other three people in our hallway segment that shared the same phone there were four Daves (I would answer the phone "Dave, Dave, Dave, Ron, and Dave. Dave speaking.")
There was a brief period in my sophomore year in high school when I decided that I wanted something unique. So I started writing my name as "Davyd." That was really cool for, like, two weeks, before my teachers started getting confused and asking questions, at which point I went back to the original.
(In that I was copying a friend named Eric who had decided to go by "Erick" — he still does to this day.)
I never particularly chose or preferred between "Dave" and "David". i went by the latter most commonly growing up; at some point the former became the most common, and as I've been doing job apps, that's what I've been using (except when asked for full legal name). That said, too many mocking renditions of the Ballad of Davy Crocket made to me in junior high rendered that diminutive off-limits.
One advantage to an extremely common name (sort of the opposite of stuff that's hinted at in the article) is that it creates some useful anonymity. I mean, I know that nobody is truly anonymous on the Internet, and it would not take a massive amount of research to learn which of the many people with my name I am — but a simple search by name cranks out many pages on Google before there's any chance of finding me. That allows for some casual (if not to be fully relied upon) separation of Work and Play.
Another advantage (I'll call it an advantage) is that the name comes up in all sorts of cultural circumstances — from "Dave's not here, man," to "I'm sorry, Dave, I can't do that."
I like my name. I don't feel particularly traumatized for having an extremely common one. In many ways, it's kind of nice — especially not having to spell it to others all the time.
The psychological effects of growing up with an extremely common name
“Parents are really, really worried about their kids being ordinary.”
As someone with a name nobody can spell, and who gets called everything from Debbie to Julie, I am envious of your common name.
I'm also laughing at your phone greeting. It reminds me of my college roommate, whose given name was Judy. Her first roomie (who left) was also named Judy. It was confusing, so she started calling herself Jude. Jodi and Judy were similar enough that she kept it up. So, anyone who knew her before college calls her Judy. Anyone she met afterwards (including her husband) calls her Jude.
I would have loved to have a common name. Mine isn't just uncommon, it's foreign. I keep having to spell it, as well as my surname.
It's uncommon enough that anyone around here who recognises the name will be thinking of me, but online there are quite a few people with the same first and last name.
The one time a new girl at school here in .nl claimed to know another Vashti she was also thinking of me: we'd been to the same school in England.
My surname although not very common is short. You should see and hear the trouble people have with 5 little letters.
Generic name anonymity online is something I've never experienced (other than when using a nym).
Although I did discover recently that there is an account for a Kee Hinkley on G+, which is pretty amazing.