I hate rude people with a passion.
(And yet, I am ok with my behavior. Ain’t that a bitch?)
But there is a certain charm and panache to someone who may or may not know how low end crassly rude they are and just flat out do not care.
But there is a bit of an allure to it, in a very sick way.
Theres this guy.
Nothing special about him, but thats the thing.
He THINKS there is something REALLY special about himself.
It starts with the walk.
This guy is fairly pale, and I should know, I am one shade off of being translucent.
But the swag in his walk would put the most old-school pimp to shame.
His looks are nothing special, kind of a chubby cheeked Joe Pesci with beady eyes.
But the slight wink and devilish grin he is throwing at the ladies is one that Brad Pitt couldn’t pull off in his prime.
His squeaky, low soprano voice is suffering from delusions of grandeur.
And then, to top it all off, he is rude to my favorite barista in my new Starbucks morning home.
DO NOT MESS WITH MY JAVA, JAGGOFF!
An addiction is not something to play with.
I have decided I don’t like him.
And I don’t mean, I dislike his demeanor and I wish he would leave peacefully.
I mean, I hope his face melts like a Nazi staring at the Arc as the barista and I share a laugh.
Appropriate? To me, yes.
I have never understood why people think that over-reacting is something bad.
Anything worth doing is worth doing well.
To quote Henry Rollins, “Don’t do anything by half. If you love someone, love them with all your soul. When you go to work, work your ass off. When you hate someone, hate them until it hurts.”
I like that. Its got that beautiful touch of the extreme that appeals to the semi-sociopath in all of us. (I mean that in a good way.)
(That was a funny line, but I took a moment to refresh my definition of Sociopath tendencies at some website, and it kind of spooked me. Suddenly, that melting Nazi line is coming back to haunt me.)
In the back of my head is always the idea that the barista will behave how you see disgruntled employees behave and this guy will be getting a spit latte with an extra shot of mucus.
Finally, Mr. Wonderful got his questionable latte and left, much to the relief of the rest of us.
Because an edgy barista is nobodies friend.