Nats Win! Also, My Name is Not Newman

Had the pleasure of seeing the Washington Nationals beat the Brewers in the bottom of the ninth last night. Great game.

And then this morning I suffered a rather amusing indignity. I stopped at Starbucks on my way into the office. (By the way, in case you didn’t know, I’m back at Burness Communications, my old place of employment, as a Web consultant. Anyhoo.)

I order a breakfast sandwich—a new offering from our favorite bohemian corporate goliath. They’re actually not bad there. And the teenage girl asks for my name. I tell her. And I even spell it out for her. She scribbles it on a piece of paper with a Sharpie pen.

A few minutes later, when my sandwich has been microwaved in that that huge thing that’s supposed to look like a pizza oven or something, she picks up the paper, and in front of the entire line of waiting customers, yells, “breakfast sandwich for NEWMAN. Hello, NEWMAN? Is there a NEWMAN here”?

Gimme a goddamned break.