To that guy in the nice suit standing behind me at the Espresso Royal Cafe cream and sugar station – either crowd in next to me and fix your damn coffee or be patient. I seriously don’t mind if your elbow touches mine while you reach for the cream pitcher. I do mind that you are too close and breathing down my neck while tapping your foot.
Also, to the guy sitting to my left at the public speaking seminar. Quit touching/rubbing my shoulders and telling me I’m doing a great job. The discomfort I feel due to your invasion into my personal space far exceeds any discomfort I would feel talking in front of a crowd. In fact – don’t even think about touching me again... and you know what? Don’t talk to me either, you creep.
Guess what! While you mull over your weighty decision for choosing a basket or a cart, please
please, stand aside from the automatic doors, lady. My potato chips and champagne are calling my name and begging that I liberate them from the grocer as soon as possible - and you're thwarting me.
3 Comments:
would you believe that tonight, as i was entering the grocery store, i started to laugh at the LINE of people waiting to retrieve a cart? and no one seemed to be moving.
but i was content as i headed for the baskets instead--because there wasn't a line. but i was laughing because i had thought of your open letter. apparently it hasn't made it to everyone down south yet.
The best open letters make most men who read them feel just a wee bit guilty.
So well done there.
Touching you? Shocking! What an asshole.
I am jonesing for champagne and chips now. Maybe Lays. That sounds like a compelling combination.
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