Dear Working Guy

Dear Working Guy,
I get it, you’re sooo busy.
That must be why you’re in a crowded coffee shop, frequented by writers and old friends.
What better place to work than a place abuzz with a symphony of soccer moms and blenders?
I mean, it seems like excellent planning to me… but whatever your upper-middle class frustrations may be, can you quit taking ’em out on me?
For instance, I come here, not just to write, but to catch up with friends that I see here.
I admit, sometimes we might get a little loud, but after you shot me the first dirty look, I made sure we quieted down.
Then you shot the second dirty look.
You continued to glare at us, even as we got quieter.
Then you took a call on your cell phone.
You didn’t excuse yourself from the nearby table or take it outside.
You just took it.
That’s fine. I don’t mind that much, even if it does seem slightly rude, but next time you wanna stare somebody down, don’t do something even more obnoxious within the next five minutes.
It just wreaks of hypocrisy.


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