Table Manners

Sitting at a cafe. Engrossed in an article about startups while serenaded by Backstreet Boys’ All I Have to Give. Ah, life. I sip the overly-foamy, intensely-bland cappuccino, read and listened and pondered. Out of the blue, a middle-aged woman approaches me. A bit startled and somewhat annoyed, “Yes?” I inquire, after she waves her arms in my face.

“Are you going to be using this seat for long?” asks the middle-aged, crazy-eyed woman as she checks out my table like a piece of meat. I look around. 2…4…7. Seven seats within a reasonable radius, empty and very much sit-able. “Why are you doing this, woman?” I ask with my eyes.

With my mouth, I respond, “Yes, I’ll be here for a while.”

She does not take it well. She parks herself in an adjacent seat. I can smell her pungent furiosity. I can feel her laser-sharp gaze. I can’t forgo this table, I can’t let that middle-aged, crazy-eyed, oddly uniquely-dressed woman take it. If war is what she wants, I’ll go all in. I won’t relent, I won’t yield. I am ready to fight for my right no matter how long it takes! Hm, I do actually have to leave soon.

Lesson of the day: in life you have to choose what battles are worth your time, otherwise you may find yourself waging psychological warfare against middle-aged, crazy-eyed, uniquely-dressed, pungently furious women instead of having dinner with your friends.


Table Manners


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