We Need A Flood! Yes a flood. No I don’t mean the kind that ruins your basement and causes the president to issue a state of emergency where you live. I mean one of biblical proportions where you have to build an ark and everyone who is not on it gets washed out of existence. Who gets to choose who survives you ask? Well me of course, and I’ll tell you, the other customers at Starbucks today do NOT get to come on board!
No really please, have my seat. I only left my computer, a book and a pen sitting next to it while I got up to get my coffee, but by all means, let me move everything because you are so self involved you didn’t notice.
I’ll take a new seat here next to the table with the two entitled moms who don’t seem to realize that their small children are pouring sugar all over another table and drawing in it, making a huge mess that I am sure they will leave behind for someone else to clean up. “Honey don’t do that,” didn’t work five minutes ago, but you know, you go on sniping about a third person you are calling a friend although I have heard nicer things said about terrorist, and you let your daughters keep doing exactly what you just asked them not to because after all we wouldn’t want to interrupt your conversation. It’s called parenting and sometimes it is inconvenient. I know, I have three kids under 6, and you know what, not one of them would pour sugar all over a table, or scream loudly in a public place repeatedly. You know why? Because I wouldn’t let them, and if I couldn’t control them, I’d inconvenience myself by leaving, not everyone else by ignoring it.
And if that isn’t rude enough, to the tall guy sporting the Bluetooth, really we all want to hear your overly loud one-sided conversation. I want to hear about what your wife has to say and what clients are bothering you and by all means I want to know when you’ll be able to meet for drinks. I especially want to wait behind you in line while you hold up one finger signaling to the barista that your time is more important than hers or any of ours and that we should all wait for you to finish your “private conversation” so that you can order your drink. God forbid you be polite and step aside so that those of us who have more important things to do than chat on the phone can get our cup of coffee and be on our way.
All of you who have cell phone conversations in public, you do realize that phone conversations are designed to be between two people, or at most by a handful of people who have agreed to be part of a conference call? The rest of us don’t want to be held hostage by your personal conversations. Hard to believe I know, but not everyone thinks you are as interesting as you seem to think you are.
And to those of you fighting with your significant others while the rest of us are forced to listen in, you really should be careful about shouting out financial problems, institutions, home addresses, and phone numbers, someone who gives a damn might be listening. And stop dropping the F bomb every five seconds. First of all, it shows you as an ignorant idiot. Secondly, the three kids sitting with their grandparents in the corner should not have to hear you pontificating with such obscene language. Actually, none of us should. Finally, where does the indignant attitude come from when people are staring? Do you really expect the ten other people in this 20-foot by 40-foot room to pretend they can’t hear every single word you are broadcasting? You are the one shouting out obscenities and acting like a jerk. We didn’t ask for this, so stop shooting us threatening looks every time our well justified annoyance registers on our faces.
In my fantasies, I walk right up to these inconsiderate people and call them on it. Excuse me, but do you know your daughter has just poured the milk all over the floor over there? You might want to get a paper towel and clean that up so no one else has to. Or Sir, I am trying to work, would you mind taking your private phone conversation somewhere private. Or dude, do you kiss your mother with that mouth? No wonder your girlfriend thinks you’re a loser, but could you possibly berate her where the rest of us don’t have to listen to it? Just once, I’d like to scare up enough nerve to demand what used to be considered common courtesy. Maybe some day I will, but for now, I’ll just bitch about it here and wait for that flood.