May 22, 2007

-- Yesterday afternoon I indulged my fantasy of becoming a Pretentious Bastard for a Day, and took my laptop to Starbucks. 

I figured I could buy a cup of their bitter diarrhea coffee, sit in an overstuffed chair for an hour or two, and act like I’m extremely busy creating art. And maybe, if all went well, I might even get a little work done. Not my main goal, of course, but a nice possible consequence….   

I even considered stopping at Eckerd Drug on the way, and buying a pair of half-glasses to wear way out on the end of my nose. But I thought that might be pushing it for a first-timer, so I just went in regular civilian clothing.

I’d never even set foot in the place. Oh, I’ve been in Starbucks plenty of times, just not this particular location. And I was surprised to find there weren’t any fellow Pretentious Bastards in attendance. It was just a mother-daughter team sitting in a corner designed to resemble a rich person’s library, and me.

I set up my computer, using one of their electric outlets (since my battery has completely shit the bed), and went to the counter to order a cup of fresh-brewed stool softener.

I told the girl I wanted coffee, just regular coffee, and she asked what size. As she said this she waved her hand like Vanna White past a lineup of sample cups, each emblazoned with the words Venti and Grande and that sort of thing. 

I said, “Medium.”

Once seated I attempted to connect to the internet, but there was no Wi-Fi in that place. Or, as some folks call it, wiffy…. And what’s the deal with that? I thought Starbucks is all about hanging out with your laptop and being insufferable? I considered asking the people behind the counter, but screw it. I hadn’t come there to read the Drudge Report, I’d come to “write,” and that’s what I intended to do.

So I located and opened the appropriate file, and got down to business. And that’s when the noise started.

For one thing, everybody working there was a teenage girl. And all were using that irritating “creaking door” voice. Man, I hate that. One in particular sounded like The Inner Sanctum was coming on, every time she opened her mouth. 

Wot up with the teenage girl creaking door thing?! Can somebody please explain it to me? It makes me want to start throwing haymakers.

They were talking about the word raspberry. One of the girls was amazed, simply amazed, that there’s a P in it. She told some long-winded tale about how she’d gotten into an argument with her mother about how to spell raspberry, and that she’d insisted there was no P involved.

While this gripping story continued, people were running blenders and apparently transferring great quantities of ice from one metal container to another, just continuously. And there was a stereo speaker right above my head, pumping out a recording of a woman scat-singing over cocktail jazz.

Perhaps I’m not Pretentious Bastard material, after all?

I finished off my coffee and, right on schedule, sensed a disturbance in the lower quadrant. Great. I considered driving home and taking care of the low-grade problem, but quickly abandoned the idea. By the time I drove there, let loose a grande scattershot, talked to everyone, then drove back, I’d lose at least a half-hour. I’d just tap into my old ColonMaster talents, and venture forth.

I decided to give up on Starbucks and go to Borders, another Pretentious Bastard hotspot. I called Toney as I drove, and she suggested I try Panera Bread instead. I’d never set foot inside that place either (I’m more of a Wendy’s kinda guy), and didn’t like the sound of it. But Borders is always crowded and insane, so at the last minute I decided to give it a shot.

And it was perfect. They have wiffy there, just as fast as hell, and the place is big and comfortable. I sat in a corner and got lots of extracurricular writing done, while sipping a bottomless Dr. Pepper. Plus, I was just one of a dozen or so other PBs, which put me at ease.

I think I might’ve found my new afternoon office. For whatever reason, I’m having trouble getting things done at home. I think all the time spent here is starting to get to me, and I’m feeling a powerful urge to shake things up a bit.

So, if you need me I’ll be at Panera Bread this afternoon, the fat guy in the corner with the Brooklyn Dodgers cap and broccoli cheddar goatee.

Now here’s our old friend Buck to close out the category.

And I’ll see you guys tomorrow.

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Last updated
01/17/12 12:12 PM

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