Last night I was in the mood for Chinese food. The first restaurant the GPS led me to was positioned between a Ferrari dealership and a Porsche dealership. Deciding this wasn’t my side of town, I drove on to the next one — a sleazy hole-in-the-wall restaurant named “The China King Buffet” — at least, that’s how it appeared on the GPS. Upon entering the restaurant, half of the signs were in Chinese; the other half, Spanish. My kind of place.

After fixing a plate of food and sitting down, I noticed one of the waitresses was staring at me uncomfortably long. She was in her 40s, older than the rest of the staff by a good twenty years. As I stared at the television to my right I could feel her eyes locked on me. With each bite, she came closer. Soon she was standing directly next to me and I had no choice but to acknowledge her presence.

She put her hand on my shoulder and told me I looked like her friend Larry. At first she said “Lally” and then she corrected herself, saying it slowly. “Larry.”

Larry visited China ten years ago to teach English to Chinese college students and employees. “In America, I work here,” she said, pointing around the restaurant. “In China, I professor.” She met Larry while teaching at a university and began learning English from him.

Through broken English, she told me her story while I ate. Ten years ago, when her daughter was just ten-years-old, the professor and her husband decided they wanted their daughter to attend college in America. Her husband moved to Atlanta ten years ago, and last year her daughter came over as well to start college. I didn’t catch the details of the next part, but sometime before she was able to come to America, her husband died. “Accident,” she said, as tears welled in her eyes.

The former-professor/current-waitress has been in America for three months now. “I like America very much,” she said. Her daughter is attending school for business accounting. She asked me what I did for a living and after a few tries I settled on “computers” and she got it. “Oh, computers,” she said as her eyes opened wide. “You very smart, just like Larry.”

Soon it was time for me to go. “It was nice to meet you,” I said. “What’s your name?”

“My American name is Linda,” she said, again careful to pronounce the “L.”

“What was your Chinese name?” I asked. She then blurted out something in Chinese that I had no chance of ever repeating, either verbally or in print. “Linda it is,” I said, chuckling. She did not get the joke.

“My name’s Rob,” I said. “Oh, Robert!” she said. “Yes, Rob, like Robert,” I said. “It’s short for Robert.” She just nodded. “Robert.”

“Well, goodbye Linda,” I said. “Good luck.”

“Goodbye, Larry … er, Robert,” she said.

Goodbye, Linda. Good luck.