Once, years ago, I was in New Plymouth for a few days, and went into an interesting-looking record shop. I flicked through the bins and inspired, asked if they had anything by Merleau-Ponty. The guy said he didn't think they did, but he'd look up the catalogue.
I realised after a couple of minutes as he thumbed through the pages that I'd given him the wrong name.
"Sorry, my fault, I mean Carlo Ponti!" I said.
"Oh, OK," said the record store guy, and turned to the 'P' listings, but couldn't find anything, though he took ages, looking in several catalogues for me.
It wasn't till I'd got down the road I realised I'd actually meant to say Paolo Conte. But by then I didn't feel I could go back to the record shop and ask. Ever.