The other day Rori and I were at California Pizza Kitchen (CPK for those of us in the know). At the table next to us were a family of four, accompanied by the father's boss and his wife (How do I know it was his boss? Seriously, dude. Read the title of this blog entry).
The boss (let's call him Richard) was talking to the son, asking him if he knew what bonds were used for (his father is a bonds trader). The son answered him, and the boss gave him a verbal pat on the head, and then proceeded to tell this 10 year-old boy that his dad "made a lot of money selling bonds," or some such shit. Did the boy care? No. He stared at his food, wishing (I am sure) that this douchebag would shut the fuck up so he could enjoy his meal in peace.
In fact, Richard wasn't telling the boy about his dad's work. Instead, he was really using the boy to tell everyone else in the restaurant what he did for a living. What I got was: "Hey everyone, guess what? I am an assho--no, I'm sorry, I mean a bond trader--who makes a buttload more money than any of you. In fact, I'm here having dinner with my subordinate (who is paying for my cheap ass), who also makes more than any of you. I know you all wish you were me. Did you know I drove here in my Jag? Yeah. I'm that special."
Richard... SHUT THE FUCK UP! Nobody cares. Everyone here who can hear you (and that means everyone in the restaurant) thinks you are a complete and utter jackass, and we don't need to hear you speak to your lackey's son in such a condescending tone. If I weren't such a nice guy, I would probably wish you'd choke on that calzone. Good thing I'm not an asshole too, huh?
While we're at it... You "Richards" who sit in the movie theater directly behind me, SHUT THE FUCK UP! I don't need to know how funny the next scene is because you've already seen it. I don't want to hear all the trivia about each actor, and who's married to whom, and how much the director cut out of this film to make the PG-13 rating. I don't care that you have to pee. Go fucking pee! And while you're at it, would you mind too terribly if I asked you to STOP KICKING MY FUCKING SEAT? Sorry. I know this is about Loudmouths, but it had to be said.
Telephone Background Talkers: SHUT THE FUCK UP! Seriously! You are in an office, and the people around you are on the phone all of the time, talking to other customers. You just shushed me 5 minutes ago when I coughed. Now you're off the phone, standing three feet from me, and asking Janice 4 cubicles away if she's seen your stapler! No, Janice doesn't have it. I have it, because I intend to staple your lips shut as soon as I get off the phone with my customer.
This also goes for you people who are trying to communicate, through me, to the person I am talking to on my cell phone. Here's a typical conversation:
Me: "Hi Bob, I can't wait to see you and your family. Here's how to get here. Just get on the freeway--"
Richard: "TELL HIM TO TAKE THE 680 SOUTH!"
Me: "Uh. Ok, Dick says 680 south is the best way. Oh, you're coming from--"
Richard: "IS HE TAKING 680? THAT'S THE WAY WE ALWAYS GO. AND TELL HIM TO CHECK OUT THE WAREHOUSE THAT BURNED DOWN. THE ONE NEAR EXIT 80. THERE WAS A FIRE THE OTHER DAY AND LIKE 5 FIRE TRUCKS SHOWED UP. THAT'S THE WAREHOUSE WHERE WE GOT OUR FIREWORKS LAST YEAR. I WOULDN'T BE SURPRISED IF-- What was that? Oh, no, I don't need to talk to him."
Me: "Ok. See you soon, Bob."
Richard: "BYE BOB! DON'T FORGET TO BRING THE HOT DOG BUNS!"
...
By the way, Richard. Good luck with your surgery next week. I really hope they'll be able to extract that cell phone without too much difficulty.
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