The Speed of Wit

The guy behind the check-out desk at the library smiled when he asked me what my last name was.
'Any relation to the steel tycoon?' he inquired when I told him, simultaneously sifting through a little box, trying to locate my card.
It wasn't the first time I was getting that question. Lakshmi Mittal, the bulti*-trillionaire, is famous in Cleveland, thanks to his many giant buildings littering the city, and several hundred side-road-signs with 'Mittal Steel' in huge lettering and the words 'Clean up for real' in much smaller print reminding people to save the environment.
'Of course,' I said. 'He's my father.'
The guy's eyes widened.
'Then you must be...,' he began
'Vanisha? No, I was kidding. My dad's a scientist.'
The guy laughed. 'You almost had me there. What kind of scientist?'
'He's a nuclear scientist.'
'Wow,' the guy said. 'Intense. What's his name? I might've heard of him.'
'Dr. Kalam. A.P.J Abdul Kalam. '
The guy froze while scanning the stack of DVDs I had placed in front of him.
'The President?'
'Ex-President,' I corrected him.
The guy stared at me.
'Hah,' he said at last. 'You're pulling my leg.'
'With a steel rope,' I said, laughing at last, as I collected my DVDs and put them away in my bag.
---
At least that was how I should have responded to his question. Instead, when he asked me if I was related to Mr. Lakshmi. Mittal, I laughed and said 'I wish'.

Alas, wit is undeniably the tortoise in the race of life.

*bulti=multi x 10^3