I am a woman in my 20s and work in a small, friendly office of 20 people. My given name is Andie. I have a male colleague, who goes by the nickname Andy. To cut down on confusion, my colleagues started calling me Andie Girl or Miss Andie, and him Andy Boy or Mr. Andy. I hate it! It’s infantilizing and condescending. But I didn’t nip it in the bud, and now everyone in the company uses these nicknames, including Human Resources and our C.E.O. Is there a way to address this that doesn’t seem as if I’m suddenly overreacting?

ANDIE, PORTLAND, ORE.

I came at this all wrong, at first, by evaluating the nicknames. For every plantation-residing Miss Ellie I conjured, I could picture a feisty Georgy Girl (or better, President Obama’s spot-on “Hey, gurrrl,” imitating a crowd’s affection for his wife). Then I saw the light: We should all be called what we like. Who cares that you waited, or that your male colleague comes in for similar treatment? Like Jim Croce, you got a name.

Start by deciding what you want yours to be. Are you drawing the line at Andie? (It may be a tad confusing to have two, but I don’t see chaos descending.) Or are you willing to incorporate your last initial: Andie J. or A. J.? Then approach Human Resources and your best pal. Say: “I love my job but hate my nickname. It’s so demeaning. And I’m not a contestant on ‘RuPaul’s Drag Race.’ Can you help me turn the tide and start calling me [preferred moniker]?”

Then divide and conquer. Let H.R. take the C.E.O. and management, and you and your pal hit your colleagues. Fortunately, 20 is a pretty small number of hearts and minds to flip. You may have to remind folks a few times. But we spend too many hours at the office to endure nicknames that grate.

A Date Saved, Still

My daughter is getting married. I sent out “save the date” cards last month, having agonized over the guest list. I included a friend who has been close for years but whom I have not seen much of lately. Then I learned she had a casual party with friends, and we were not included. I was very hurt and no longer want to invite her to the wedding. Am I entitled to rescind my “save the date”?

ANONYMOUS, CONN.

You are not. What’s more, your invitees are not required to do light housekeeping for you or hem your trousers. They are not in your debt. You asked them to set aside a date; now, absent treacherous behavior (think: duel between Aaron Burr and Alexander Hamilton, not chili party diss), you will send them invitations.

You, yourself, said that you have not seen much of your pal lately. Did you think she had checked into a nunnery? Put pettiness aside and return to the agonizing creation of your guest list. There was a reason your friend made the cut; it still holds.

In the Extrovert’s Light

My husband is outgoing. He enjoys striking up conversations with strangers and engages people whenever possible. I am quieter and often fall into the role of second banana. I’m O.K. with that. But a few of our mutual friends have a habit that annoys me: They direct their comments only to my husband, rarely even glancing at me. I am not silent during these conversations. I look directly at the speaker and nod my head to show I’m engaged. But to no avail. Any ideas about letting these friends know that their behavior is boorish?

ANONYMOUS

Enlist the aid of the extrovert in chief. Explain the problem to your husband and ask him to shine his light your way. With periodic questions as simple as, “What do you think, Martha?” he will remind others that you (and your opinions) are well worth listening to. Make sure to take him up on these invitations.

One of the great kindnesses of extroverts, whose charisma can be the engine of conversations, is inviting those who may be more reticent into the circle of fun. Otherwise, their charm takes on a selfishness that makes interactions all about them. With luck, your husband is not all “me, me, me.”

All the Words That Fit

I am in my late 50s and keep fit. When I encounter old friends, they often go on and on about how great I look. Then they make disparaging remarks about their own girth and decrepitude. I am at a loss for a response. Graciously fill the dead space for me, please.

PETER, PENNSYLVANIA

Do people not fish for compliments in Pennsylvania, Peter? Chances are, we are looking at bilateral exaggeration here: You are not quite so hot, nor they as decrepit, as they maintain. But never mind. Say: “Thanks for the kind words. I’m always happy to see you, too.” You continue the light banter, but elevate it by taking it out of the realm of appearance and focusing on your friendship instead. Follow up with, “What have you been up to — and more important, how do you think ‘The Good Wife’ will end?”