Garbitch

Despite their name, garbage men are in fact not made of garbage at all. I had the pleasure of meeting one this morning, with my garbage in my hand.

Contrary to my expectations, the man who greeted me was flesh and bone, and took the trash from my hand not to add it to his already sullied scrapframe, but to dispose of it in a dignified, clean fashion. As he wiped the sweat from his very real brow, I learned that names do not always accurately describe their objects of reference. I made this mistake once before with Scatman John, but never again.

Maybe you could learn from this too.