You have entered the realm of a writer.

Welcome to A Writer's Landscape!

You have entered the realm of my mind where words play with the fabric of our existence. This is the map of my imagination: the very foundations of inspiration, musing, and thought splayed for your wandering eyes. Dive deep into the tides of these forces and experience my reality, my fantasy, my world; and if you should be so inclined, share your words with this land.

Peace and Love!

J Hart F

Friday, January 22, 2010

Office Full of Coffee

Four business men walk into a packed coffee shop.

They stand in the middle of the lobby searching for an acceptable table to converse at, do business at, assume they will look big and important at...

The situation gets worse: four business men, two tables at opposite ends of the lobby are available, both with two chairs available, a lounging chair tucked away in the far corner is available, and they know a fifth is soon to arrive.

One of the men gets in line to order their long, complicated, girlie-drinks; the three others attempt rearranging the lobby, ever so slightly, so the five of them can sit around twp tiny tables which barely fits four people comfortably with only drinks to fill the terrain. They have laptops and notepads and drinks to situate atop the small landscape at hand. Two tables are placed together against the window in the dead center of the mass of customers already accumulated throughout the lobby. It's loud, it's dirty, it smells of ground coffee and bodies.

And these four, soon to be five, business men who make far to much money to be sitting in a cramped coffee shop dare to feel important enough to rearrange a lobby for which they will leave and not place anything back.

Thirty minutes later, when they decide their business will be better conducted elsewhere, they leave without touching anything they have so blatantly rearranged to impeded every other customer that might wish to sit somewhere comfortable in the coffee shop.

Why is the coffee shop the new office space?

1 comment:

  1. My. God.

    I'm a tad scared to ever go to Starbucks again. What kind of douche-baggy things am I doing without my knowledge?? I can't handle that kind of judgement. Or worse - the judgement I can IMAGINE in my own head. That's way worse. My mother used to punish us by saying "I could say something really mean - but I won't"
    And this? Has set the stage for the uncanny knack to immediately conclude that my worst paranoia are being thought by everyone around me.

    In my beloved barista days we'd put roaches in people's drinks. (They thought it was toffee I suppose.) Does it say something about my personality that the idea of eating a bug doesn't sway me but the thought that Starbucks employees are snickering "girlie drink" has my heart beating fast enough that I may burst a chocolatey artery?