That's Not My Name

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.

Saturday, December 3, 2011

After A Long Hiatus

Friday December 2, 2011
Charley's
Century City, CA

After an extremely long hiatus of going to the same Starbucks that does not write names on cups, I am making a small yet mighty return by ordering a sandwich at the mall. When the cashier asked for my name I said "Cara" and simultaneously handed him my AmEx to confirm the information I had just relayed to him, but I had a feeling he was going to get it wrong anyway.

And he did.

Carol is not my name.

That's Not My Name

Saturday, December 3, 2011

After A Long Hiatus

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