Many years ago, while aspiring to be an actress/singer in Manhattan, I was really a waitress at Carmines (a semi-famous, past its prime restaurant on the Upper West Side- not even the really famous one in Times Square). I made really great money even though I was only the second woman they ever hired on the floor (which had its own unique set of problems) and I spent a lot of time wishing that certain waiters would stop doing coke in the bathroom (while secretly wishing that the really lunatic ones would snort a line so they would be appear more normal). I could write thirty blogs telling stories about the inner workings of a Manhattan restaurant-including the day the basement storage area flooded with backed up sewage from the hotel above, or my soon-to-be good friend who asked me to marry him over and over to get his green card (I toyed with the idea but he only offered $10,000-- I was holding out for more).
But- once in awhile - when I hear the name "Katherine," I get especially nostalgic. There was an older bartender who was utterly, completely, madly and whole-heartedly convinced that my name was Katherine. Let me remind you- there were only two women in the whole place....you'd think we'd stand out a bit. Nope. I was Katherine. I spent the better part of a year trying to tell him (without embarrassing him) that my name was Christina.
Christina: printed on every single cocktail order receipt that hit the bar. Christina- the name everyone else called me in front of him. I staged interventions: I would stand by the far end of the bar and have another waiter call out for me -- right where he could hear--- they would say my name like ten times......never worked. Everyone in the restaurant was in on it....and we never told him. There was even that random time where OUT OF NOWHERE-- he called me Christina!!! Let the angels sing!!! The man got it!! Then........"Katherine" not five minutes later. Eventually I had to take some personal time to think about what's in a name? Like frigging Romeo and Juliet.....a name is really just a way to distinguish yourself from the next person...so I knew I was Katherine to him and left it at that.
The best was when my parents came to town and we wanted to take advantage of my staff discount. We bellied up to the bar and ordered a few drinks from the bartender while we waited on our table. He chatted with my dad forever and talked me up (so sweet). We had a great twenty minutes. When our table was called, my mom got up to grab it and my dad and I stayed behind to pay the bar tab. As we were hopping up, the bartender called out "Have a great dinner, Katherine!" My dad completely stopped walking and spun his head towards me-confused. "Dad, keep walking, just keep walking, I'll explain at the table." I didn't want my dad to blow my cover.
Months and months later, the bartender (whose name I can't remember) finally got schooled by a busboy from Ecuador when he kept telling him to find Katherine and this frazzled fifteen year old looked like he was going to cry....because he didn't know who the hell this guy was talking about. Awkward, bizarre and hilarious apology followed minutes later.
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