I’m sitting in Starbucks, trying to finish my column on my latest ear debacle, but I am so distracted by the conversations around me that I’ve decided to hold the torture description for another week in favor of expressing my opinions on people in coffee shops.
When I first arrived, the place was fairly empty — a few professionals having lunch and a couple of retirees chit-chatting. I needed to charge my computer and chose a table in between two ladies near an outlet. Three women soon joined the one to my left. They range in age from mid-20s to probably 50, and all I can do is eavesdrop, flinch, and type.
Hello! We are in a public space! With no discretion whatsoever, they are speaking quite emphatically and specifically about their stupid boss, a co-worker who is ruining her life with a deadbeat boyfriend, their awful clients and every bad parenting decision their friends have made in the last three years. They are being obnoxious and mean and self-righteous, not to mention extraordinarily rude, and I’m having difficulty suppressing a strong urge to punch a throat. Alas, since I can’t physically harm them without risking incarceration and, worse, a possible permanent latte ban, I’m writing about them here. Call it therapy!
And now I’m just mad. I came here to get away from the summer crazy at Chez Wilson only to sit next to a big bowl of it. So, let this serve as a kindly reminder that airing your grievances is fine, and mostly healthy, but doing it in a popular coffee shop may end up with you in the local paper.