Look , I ’m from Spain . We Spaniards stay in cafés and bars and restaurants forever — order things to imbibe or run through , of course . But this ? Listen up , hipsters : a umber shop is not your own personal newsroom .
I ’m sure this has happen to most of you . But this dawn was particularly unsavoury . This morning it was so bad that I wanted to cockpunch every single person in this billet . No , scratch that . I wanted to order espressos for all of them and confound the cup at their head .
But I divagate . This dawn I went toToby ’s Estateto have breakfast . They make great coffee and amazing sandwich ( if you are around , examine the freshly made roasted chicken — in juicy delicious pieces — with avocado and caramelized onions on rye whisky ) . I ordered but I could n’t find a office to sit . Why ? Because the place — which can outfit about 40 hoi polloi — was full of these dickheads and their estimator and Moleskines .
motherfucker with cups of coffee so dry they were likely rate three hours ago . Dickheads reading the tea leaf leaves in their empty deoxyephedrine . Dickheads with just some free piddle .
asshole with absolutely no sign of having consumed anything except some three - week old canned tomato soup stains on their emo punk rock soda water pelvic arch hop lot t - shirts , the ones that proved they were at that concert nobody else gave a shit about .
One of them even had the pierced ball to get a banana out of this bag and proceeded to eat it as he scribe the novel he ’s never kick the bucket to publish , bet at his Samsung Galaxy III — iPhones are so passé — at the same clock time .
And here I was , ( yummy ) coffee in hand , waiting for my sandwich , with nowhere to eat it . And I was n’t alone — there were two more people like me . While I waited , three more people came in , and , after looking around unprofitably for five minutes , left without ever touching ass to chair . I did n’t need telepathic powers to read their minds . DICKHEADS .
So , once again , let me draft the rules for staying in coffee shops , so you do n’t offend your fellow patrons or bleed the possessor ironic :
The Three Rules of Coffee Places
• bargain at least a coffee . Do n’t just go ahead and sit there with your computer . If you do the latter , I hope your genitals discharge stinky into the commode bowl one daytime .
• When you are done with your coffee — it ’s ok , take your prison term , as long as you do it at some reasonable pace — you’re able to stay around for five instant . Perhaps ten . Then go out .
• If you want to stay longer , buy another burnt umber . A pastry would be fine too . Perhaps a sandwich . Anything . Whatever . But keep buying things . This is the rent you give . It ’s much less than getting your own office . Or a genuine apartment .
It ’s very simple .
Oh , and one last affair : Do n’t make calls in front of everyone else , because nobody gives a fuck about what pass to Tammy and Jaclyn yesternight . Dickhead .
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