"Miss! Miss!"
"She has a name. Use her name!"
"Miss?"
Uhoh, they're talking about me. And I turned around from my barista station to see Miguel (or "Miguelito," as they call him to distinguish him from the other two Miguels that work at Alice's) trying to get my attention to hand me something, while Sue (the baker) reprimanded him for not using my name.
"She has a name," Sue repeated. "It's Anne."
"Aahn?"
"No, Anne."
"Aahn."
"Anne."
My Spanish name is Ana-- I interrupted.
"Ahh.... Ana!" said Miguelito.
"Anita!" said Adolfo.
"Anita Bonita!" said Teo.
Miguelito doesn't call me "Miss" anymore; I think Sue would have his head. But now the guys greet me by name-- whatever version they prefer. I have to say, I wouldn't have thought it would make that much of a difference. But when Nelson walks in and says, "Hola, Ana!" and Adolfo says, "Anita, you make hot chocolate good yesterday?" and Teo says, "Anita Bonita, you here manana?" it makes me smile. I'm starting to love those kitchen guys, even though it makes me wish more than ever before that I'd paid attention in my Spanish classes.
No one in New York calls me "Pumpkin" yet, but I guess I haven't been here that long....
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