Sunday, January 15, 2012


I've seen this spelling of my name many, many times before. However, this time it's special because it's not from a Starbucks or any other kind of restaurant or eating establishment. I ventured behind the Orange Curtain (i.e., Orange County, land of Disney, the Nixon Library and center of political conservatism in California) for brunch and a movie with my dear friend, George, who just moved down there.

The security guard at the gated community halted my car and asked my name. She didn't seem confused by my name, but when she handed me the pass to place on my car's dashboard, the above is what I got.  This may be an isolated instant, and I'll have to test this in more detail as I continue to visit the O.C. 

Until next time, remember the Name Is CHERYL.

Monday, January 2, 2012


With a Christmas gift of a Starbucks card, I think my mother was hinting that I should do a few new blog entries. Despite my several month absence, the baristas and clerks have still not learned how to spell my name.

When I gave the cashier my name, there was not the slightest bit of hesitation as she scrawled my name across the cup. I'm guessing this is SHAROL (considering the already established patterns of this blog), but my first reaction was SHAPOL, which was quickly replaced by SHOPOL, then SHOROL. Regardless, after preparing my beverage, the barista just sat the cup on the bar and didn't even attempt to announce my name.

While I would like to suggest that Starbucks employees make a New Year's resolution to learn to spell my name, it still amuses me to see all the different variations, as well as the atrocious handwriting skills. Happy 2012, everyone!