I’m at this coffee place that I love because they make yummy chai and have free wi fi and usually play oldies music, except that I forgot that on weekends they have live music, but whatever, that can be good too.
Except that the guy who’s here tonight is playing really loud rock-y guitar music, which I like just fine but not when I’m trying to get work done, because it’s so loud it’s like the music can penetrate my skull. Seriously, I feel like I am hearing it in my eyes. Also, he is kind of an asshole.
Okay, well, it’s really slow tonight, so that’s probably frustrating for him. But after every song he spends, like, thirty seconds pleading with the three people (including me) hanging out at the tables to, I guess, worship his greatness? But he does it like, “Thank you guys for being so kind. I appreciate it. If you want me to stop, just let me know.” Which is really passive-aggressive, since he knows, and we know, that all of us are college students camping out to get work done, and we are not here to listen to his music. We are In The Zone.
Well, except for the people at the bar. They’re all watching TV. So at one point, he asked if we could turn the TV off. He asked several times, at his microphone, whining about how he might as well not play if we’re all going to be watching TV, and then one of the poor waitresses went over and told him that it was the Superbowl. So then we whined a little more, like, “Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize it was the Superbowl, of course that’s more important, I’ll just put my stuff away and leave, then, you guys don’t want me.”
I get that he probably needs tips from us to make money, but at this point I am too scared to leave the coffee shop because I just know he’ll say something mean to me, especially if I don’t tip him or anything, but, you know, I probably could’ve finished tomorrow’s blog post by now if he hadn’t been twanging and whatnot right in my ear, and making me wince every few minutes when he started yelling at us for not being a sufficiently appreciative crowd.
I’m actually at the coffee place with my parents’ money, since I had some college application stuff to take care of and they could tell I was having trouble working at home, where my brothers were playing Rock Band and then, every few minutes, fighting with each other. (Notice a stunning parallelism? Me too! Whiny Guy’s guitar even looks like a Rock Band guitar, black with a white face thing.) So I am pretty annoyed that it’s no better here, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to give him any of my own money just to make him stop yelling. I am pretty damn broke! I don’t even have money to donate to NaNoWriMo, for the first time in three years, and I love that place. I will be furious with myself if I give him money I do not have.
But, since I am also the only one to make a half-hearted show of appreciation after his rants, I know that I might very well give in and tip him anyway. After all, he probably does need the money. And maybe he couldn’t find a proper day job either.
I’ll let you know, if I ever get the guts to leave in the first place.