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Just A Common Coffee Break
Just A Common Coffee Break
Those close to me know how unsexy, unhip, uncool, and unpretty I feel when I’m rockin the Poindexter Spectacles, by Calvin Klein. It’s also no big secret that I’m too-lazy to sport contacts full-time, which forces me to continuously weigh self-esteem versus physical-effort.
However, on days when I’m scheduled to play football, it’s a no-brainer. Glasses are too expensive to risk breaking, so contacts are in. I’m a lazy slug, but I’m also a cheap, lazy slug.
With this information in hand, I proudly present for everyone’s viewing entertainment...
a common coffee break, seen through my eyes, without glasses:
I can’t believe the nerve of that last caller! Grrrr… I need a break. I’ll just quietly slip out the side stairwell, or as I like to call it, the Bat-Pole, since few are aware of its existence. From here, I can creep up to the reception area and be in the blindspot of the 50-something woman who loves to do nothing but engage in small-talk nonsense. I can’t stand her insufferable smiling and inquiries on the weather, the Mariners, and my well-being. Is it raining? Stick your fuckin head out the door and look up. It’s not that hard! I don’t give a damn about Ichiro or retractable roofs! How my family’s doing is none of your goddamned business! Of course, I’d never say these mean things to her. It’s just how I really feel.
I normally peek out and successfully work against her vision to avoid having to smile through clenched teeth and pretend to be interested in anything that conveys on her sing-songy, Mary Poppins voice. But as I do my recon, I notice that instead of the magpie, the young, raven-haired lady is at the desk, and she’s talking to another attractive young woman. Well then.
I stroll right past them, slowing my strut long enough to give them a huge smile and a hearty “Good Morning!”
Raven-Hair returns my greeting and sugary high-beam smile in-kind. Oh yeah. She likes me. I’m so hot. Surely this has nothing to do with professionalism or courtesy, and throw out the fact that she’s probably too-young to actually find me attractive. Screw that! She thinks I’m hot. It’s all about my aura.
The woman next to the desk surprises me be greeting me by name. I do a double-take because I have no idea who she is. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage,” I enunciate with the cheesiness of a really bad 80’s movie.
“Not really,” she deadpans. Then she explains that once, about two years ago, I personally paid a visit to her desk to fix her PC when we were understaffed. Then she reintroduced herself. Now, I don’t recall the desk-visit, but I recognize her name as someone I helped over the phone yesterday. If I remember correctly, she was being a bonehead, and I had on more than one occasion almost lost my cool with her. Judging by the look on her face and the tone of her voice, I was unable to completely conceal my disgust yesterday.
“Well… It’s nice to meet you… again. You’ll have to pardon me. I really suck with names and faces…” Yeah, especially regarding hot, vapid chicks. I drop a few one-liners to smooth-over any ruffled feathers.
“No worries!” She finally returns my sugary smile. Oh yeah. She likes me too. I’m the cock-of-the-walk now. I’m gonna strut out the building like John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever. Watch me strut, ladies. That’s right… look at my fanny, look at my fanny, look at my fanny…
I walk a block to the nearest Starbucks. The line extends nearly out the door and there’s standing-room-only in the area designed for coffee pick-up. Inefficient. Unacceptable. No worries. I’ll just walk a half-block to the next Starbucks, and if that one’s crowded, I’ll simply cross the street and go to the third Starbucks within one square-block area. The first time I noticed the three Starbucks on nearly the same block, I thought I was either high from cold medicine or I had crossed into some bizzaro, mirror-universe. Now, it’s just another Tuesday.
Fortunately, the second Starbucks was not very crowded. This is my favorite Starbucks because the barristas are by far, the hottest on the block, and this is the location where my favorite barrista use to work almost four years ago. She would make comments about how cool my hair looked, and I’d bashfully soak-up all her attention, gleefully engaging in all the small-talk I normally despise. “Yes, how bout that rain? Wet enough for ya? Ichiro’s awesome! I love stadiums with retractable roofs! My family’s great! But as for me, I’m tired and sore. I sure could use a massage or a hug…” Well, I never actually said that last part, but I was thinkin it.
Her eye-contact with me was always on some intense, “If you ask politely to jump my bones, I’ll say yes before you can put the period on the sentence,” level. She even gave me her email address and phone number without me asking for it. Alas, I never found the nerve to ask her out. She finished beauty school and moved-on to a promising future at a salon or spa, but not before giving me a CD-copy of Raphael Sadiq’s solo joint, which in my delusional mind, translates into that farewell mix-tape that signifies, “So long, stupid. You could have had me if you had been more assertive.” I have no regrets though… the flirtation was good enough for me. Sometimes the thrill of the chase is greater than the actual capture. Wow… my train of thought completely derailed here…
Getting back on track, I wait only briefly in line while one of the barristas made her way down the line, pre-writing our orders before we made it to the counter. Totally efficient. I’m thrilled. As she writes up the customer ahead of me, I notice her eyes keep gravitating back towards me. I’m such a hottie that she can hardly pay attention to her current client! Damn I’m such a stud. If only I could somehow turn-off my hunky-charm, the line would move faster. Sorry to everyone waiting impatiently behind me. I can’t help that I was born this way.
Wait a sec… I recognize her now… she use to always take my order back when I was on the early-morning shift. She resembles the two women who played Sha’uri from Stargate movie and TV-series, and for all the non-geeks, look to the pic in the upper-left corner for visual reference.
Yummy, right? Right. So anyway, when she gets to me, she exclaims, “I remember you! Long time no see!” That’s right baby… I know you do. But seeing me without my glasses must be traumatic on you. We clearly have some Clark Kent/Superstud mojo goin on here. I’ll give her “the eyebrow” now. She giggled! She wants me to be her System-Lord! She’s totally diggin me!
“Let’s see now…” she struggles with her memory against my swelling, manly mass of inescapable hotness. “Double-tall, non-fat, no-whip, four-pump mocha?” She remembered! Right down to the “four-pumps”! Clearly she wants me now, but alas it’s too-late for her. To her, I am the untamable stallion that broke from her stable to find refuge in another mare’s lair. Ya snooze ya lose, kid. All’s fair in love and coffee. I nod, grinning like Willard Scott at an Old Country Kitchen buffet. She engages me in small-talk and I respond with witticisms designed to make her laugh. I am successful, because I am clearly a clever hot-boy.
I grab my mocha and wave goodbye at the other two obviously smitten barristas, and one equally and unsettlingly smitten male… er… barrista… (awk-warrrrd… and head for the exit, John Travolta strut in full-swagger mode. Walking this way must really firm-up the glutes because… yeah… after a while… ouch!
I glide back into the lobby of my building, again catching the eye of Raven-Hair, who gives me the bashful smile, raised-eyebrow, “boy-you-are-so-cute-I-can’t-concentrate-on-my-work” gaze. I return her gaze with a bashful smile and wave as I glide by on what are now throbbing glutes.
Basically, my point is, it really is hard-work looking this good.
5/13/2006 4:37 pm
I sooooooo know where ya comin from dude... it's not easy eh!|