My name is Cara. 4 letters. That's all. In Italian it means Dear, in Spanish it means Face, but anywhere else in America it is apparently gibberish. This is a problem I have had all my life: Giving a name for a reservation, a drink at Starbucks, or any kind of take out order becomes a horrific process that is both time consuming and traumatizing. Everyone will invariably butcher this very small 4-letter name. I cannot be silent about the oppression of my name any longer.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Karen = Rover
March 3, 2011
Starbucks
Studio City, CA
OK Now here is the thing...
When he asked me my name, I of course replied "Cara"
Then he said to me, "Would you like anything else today, Karen?"
So after I rolled my eyes and said no, I knew what I was in for.
But I am pretty sure that what this cup says to any normal person who knows how to read is: "Rover"
Or maybe it says "Raver" because he thought I was Kim Raver.
Probably not though.
Or maybe it says "Raver" because I look like the type of person who likes to drop X and twirl glow sticks.
Maybe he was just offended by my blatant eye roll.
I guess we'll never know.
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