Seriously, help me.
I am being held hostage by a little old man.
He will not shut up.
I realize that I am not a piker when it comes to the fin art of running off at the mouth, but dear lord!
This old guy must be the loneliest guy in the world.
The first mistake is eye contact.
I am at the Starbucks in Barnes and Noble.
As we all know, the unfriendliest Starbucks on the planet.
You would think I would learn.
They will not give me hot water for my Via instant coffee without charging for the regular coffee, and the regular stuff sucks.
And the music!
Its this hideous alternative, experimental stuff that you listen to because that hot chick you want to go out with is into it and you think if you are to, you might have a shot at bumping uglies with her.
Anyway, where way I?
Oh yeah, the old guy.
I was looking for an Iphone tips and tricks magazine to bring me a Siri closer together.
“Is there a Unix magazine on your side?”
That should have been my first red flag.
Old Unix guys are a lot like overly friendly hippie guys from the 60’s because, well, they are overly friendly hippie guys from the 60’s.
The hair is grey, the bald spot is prominent, and the glasses are thick.
And layers, old guys love layers.
A crew neck t shirt, under a three button polo, under a hoodie, under a, wait for it, down vest.
Old guys are always cold.
“Here you go.” I have him a copy of Unix Quarterly.
And then I made my mistake.
I tried to be funny.
These guys have no sense of humor.
“Is the magazine in Binary?”
Trust me, tech guys will shit themselves on this joke.
He chuckles, but its just a ruse.
And he begins to talk.
For the next ten minutes.
I am getting his job history, his opinions on Windows, why Android will fail, and the fact that Iphones are spreading communism.
He reminds me of the old guy at Starbucks that held me verbal hostage awhile back.
But this guy is SOOOOOO boring!
I finally use my hole card.
“I need to get back to my girlfriend, great talking with you.”
Its a bad sign when he keeps talking as you walk away.
I am back at the table, trying to swill enough coffee to relax when I feel a tap at my shoulder.
“I was going to show you that VR Compression software…….blah blah fucking blah.”
He is sitting right behind me.
I contemplate falling to the floor and playing dead in the hopes that he will just sniff me and wander off.
But these old guys are twitchy.
He may roll with a defibrillator and decide to hit me with the juice.
And all I want is to be left alone.
I try to make eye contact with the girlfriend, but she is delightfully oblivious to my predicament.
I finally decide to take the gibberish.
“I hate to cut this short, but my mom’s visiting, I need to finish this report, and my blood sugar is low.”
Three random bits of data that have nothing to do with each other.
His mind won’t process it, he will have to go reboot.
And it works, he tilts his head to the side and walks away.
I will take that as a victory and head out.
Take it where you can get it.