Part III of the Mathematical Tripos at the University of Cambridge consisted of courses at the first year graduate level.
Early in my first term, an attendance sheet was passed around in each course.
The first time I got such a sheet, I wrote "A. SILVERBERG", using the same format as those who signed before me, and passed it to the students behind me.
Sometime later, I realized that a young man was towering over me. He had come up behind me, from the back of the classroom.
He placed the attendance sheet on my desk and said "You haven't put your name on this."
Was he hitting on me, and wanted to know my name?
I said "Yes, I have," and pointed to my name.
The young man turned bright red with embarrassment, and retreated with the sheet.
In a different course later in the week, the other woman who was taking some of the Pure Mathematics Part III courses got the sheet before I did. She wrote "Miss Sarah REES". I realized that the young man assumed I hadn't put my name because there were no names in the format "Miss Alice SILVERBERG".
I decided that I probably wouldn't like Miss Sarah Rees, and we wouldn't have anything in common. I was very wrong!
I eventually got used to these lists of names. When the Churchill College students had to sign up with a doctor under the National Health Service, the list of available doctors was in the format "J. SMITH" for the male doctors and "Miss Jane DOE" or "Mrs. Jane DOE" for the female doctors. Or maybe it was "Dr. J. SMITH" for the men. I never understood why we needed to know the marital status and first names of the women, but not the men.