What If We Were Left To Our Own 'Devices' To Identify Ourselves?

 At least forty times a week, I'll be watching some YouTube or Twitter video....where some gal or guy wants to let you know how to 'identify' themselves.  They assume you want to know them, their problems or woes, and you wouldn't mind conducting this experience with a special title or ID.  

In my military years, you wore a rank identifier on your sleeve/collar, and a name ID on your chest....with 'Air Force' on the opposite side.  That was all the ID that you really needed (at least at that point in time).  So it's hard for me to see this new trend as being legit.

The chief problem I see with the identify-people....if they were to meet forty new people a day....they are wasting at least two hours of time in getting the ID across and fully understood.  The minute you say binary or non-binary....that usually opens another hour (for the 40 people) where you need to explain your sex route and how things seem fluid or non-fluid.  

Me?  The minute you start on this chat....I'd probably stop you and ask about your car....mostly wanting to know if it's a Buick, Honda, or if you are carless.  Then right before you restart your identity chat....I'll ask about your dog or cat.  After that minute long response....I'd probably go on and ask about favorite episodes of 'Friends', and who you felt was the better character on 'Lost'.  I might ask about your health, particularly your mental health.  I might dwell five minutes on the crappy state of baseball, or this idiot DeSantis, or if you had any favorites passages from the Old Testament.

I know that you'd like to just control the conversation and make it a pronoun thing or sexual thing....but there ten-thousand other potential chat topics and you might spill your guts over any number of things unrelated to sex or pronouns. 

Yeah, in a way, you are living a fairly miserable life if the conversation can only touch on pronouns and sex (unless these were juicy stories over the librarian lady who wears naughty see-through blouses, or the Piggly Wiggly clerk who has a dozen lip-piercings).