Why didn’t y’all tell me about all the douchebags in Starbucks? It’s been about 8 weeks since I became a Starbucks regular (because I am an official WRITER), but every time, I ask myself why I ended up at the table next to the most distracting and mal-adjusted people in Chicago.
Seriously, every single time.
Here’s a brief recap of some of my favorite Starbucks characters from this week alone:
- Job interviews: My favorite was when I sat next to a young woman trying to get a job as a pharmaceutical rep. Don’t these fancy, BIG PHARM companies have offices? Why are they ruining my latte with their screening interviews? The best part of the interview was when the interviewers (the blondest females I have ever seen, and I’m from Texas!!!) were wrapping up the meeting. The older blonde with the fancy laminated badge asked, “Do you have any other questions for us?” The young lady in her freshly pressed Ann Taylor suit did indeed have a question: “Where is a good place for waxing around here?“ She was totally serious, and I bet you good money she’s totally still unemployed.
- Homeless guy with raggedy yoga mat and movie recommendations: In another place and another time, it would be utterly flattering that a man calling himself “Mr. Eric Johnson” seems to be in love with me. But, as a married woman, I am less enamored with the prospect of a residentially-challenged man “coming on to me” while I am trying to grade student papers. The old yoga mat is a nice touch, and every week he gives me move recommendations, all of which are “very fascist,” he tells me. It’s the best when he sticks his hand out for me to shake it, and of course I do, but then I spend the next thirty minutes wondering when I can pull out hand sanitizer without looking like a total asshole.
- Plaintiff’s lawyer interviewing potential witness: It sure was fun to sit next to a plaintiff’s lawyer interviewing witnesses to see if any of them (like the plaintiff who is awaiting more surgery) had ever been burned by the office coffee machine. I heard “third degree burns” and “skin graft” enough times to know that if I ever work in an office again, I am never going to offer to get coffee for anyone. Also, shouldn’t lawyers be in a private setting when interviewing witnesses? Is confidentiality no longer a thing?
- Nanny interview: There’s lot of conversations I like overhearing, but a nanny interview is not on my top 100 list. Especially not an interview where the mom spends more than half the interview trying to prove what a genius her 10-month-old daughter is. I always take Angel to the zoo in the UppaBaby stroller. She loves the flamingos, but not because they are pink– because she is a genius. The highlight of eavesdropping on this interview was when the nannidate* (I totally just made that word up and it’s fucking brilliant) asked, “Why did your other nanny leave?” The mom mumbled something about the former nanny not being up to the challenge of caring for a future Mensa member and changed the subject quickly. I bet you a Starbuck’s seasonal drink that the previous nanny gave that mom the finger and got a better job.
- Canoodlers: Students bring a lot of energy and vitality to our public spaces, and I am supportive of their contributions. And, at first it was fun to watch co-eds French kiss before 9 AM, but it gets old, because if you recall, French kissing can be noisy. Smack, Slurp, Suck. (Plus, I am afraid that Mr. Eric Johnson will get ideas about what he could be doing with me in those booths by the windows.)
- Bitter job seeker reading Monster.com: I feel for the unemployed, I really do. It sucks to be stressed and desperate. But, slamming down your laptop and sighing as you read your email is a buzz kill for the rest of us. I am sorry you are very important and it’s not going well, your little one-man show is distracting and bringing the collective vibe down. Way down.
- Socialite with Louis Vuitton purse talking on bedazzled cell phone about upcoming trip to Italy to shop: God, I wish I was kidding. Yes, I noticed her giant purse when she bonked me in the head as she shimmied over to a corner table. Of course, I noticed her bejeweled iPhone case as she whipped it out of her skinny jeans and called her personal assistant. It sounds outrageous, but I swear she was bossing someone around about “upgrading her flight to Milan.” Maybe she was a rogue Kardashian, but she didn’t have those over-sized chocolate-colored eyes so probably not. I actually wanted to introduce her to the self-important guy who wears his blue tooth and acts like Starbucks is his personal board room as he paces around taking calls from underlings who do important things like “shipping crates” and “transferring stocks”. Um, tone it down there, Mr. Christian Grey, let me introduce you to Chicago’s homegrown Kardashian. Now both of you STFU.
Oh, one more! How about the misanthropic mommy blogger/writer who wears jeans from Costco and thinks it’s socially acceptable to camp out at Starbucks for hours judging people and writing blog posts about them? She’s my favorite!
* Nannidate: TM/Copyright or whatever I should have on here to protect my rights to this word. I made it up; it’s brilliant; and now, I will call the Trademark Office and make it all official. Til then, get your own damn word.