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.
Friday, January 27, 2012
Mistaken Identity
January 27, 2012
California Chicken Cafe
Hollywood, CA
An order to go - but for who exactly?
Either that's not my name, or Tara and I ordered the same salad.
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