An Open Letter To Coffee Shop Douchebag
Hey there, Grandpa Douchebag.
You don't look like the kind of guy who understands the function of the coffee shop. I say this because you walked in eating donuts from another establishment, and then plopped your three children directly next to the girl with a laptop who is clearly working on something, instead of occupying one of the totally empty other areas. You then proceeded to make a call on your flip phone and shout into it while standing 2 feet away from me. I don't need to know that you were at the park, or what you're planning for dinner, or when you're going to meet up with whoever it is these children belong to. I also don't need you to feed them soda pop and do nothing while they fight over the newspaper comics.
And you say our generation has no respect or courtesy. That's cute.
Now please, get the hell of here before I have to club one of these blond hellions with my coffee mug.
Regards,
Wrytin Befour Hughgothere
ETA: You're seriously whistling now? Over top of the music? Four people actually just left the coffee shop and cast you angry looks on the way out. You are still oblivious. Get a handle on this, or I will find a way to wound you with my saucer.
You don't look like the kind of guy who understands the function of the coffee shop. I say this because you walked in eating donuts from another establishment, and then plopped your three children directly next to the girl with a laptop who is clearly working on something, instead of occupying one of the totally empty other areas. You then proceeded to make a call on your flip phone and shout into it while standing 2 feet away from me. I don't need to know that you were at the park, or what you're planning for dinner, or when you're going to meet up with whoever it is these children belong to. I also don't need you to feed them soda pop and do nothing while they fight over the newspaper comics.
And you say our generation has no respect or courtesy. That's cute.
Now please, get the hell of here before I have to club one of these blond hellions with my coffee mug.
Regards,
Wrytin Befour Hughgothere
ETA: You're seriously whistling now? Over top of the music? Four people actually just left the coffee shop and cast you angry looks on the way out. You are still oblivious. Get a handle on this, or I will find a way to wound you with my saucer.