Just Another Jerk in the Coffee Shop

I was sitting in a coffee shop on a frigid Sunday morning when I noticed a middle aged man hobbling to the counter to place his order: small coffee, milk and three sugars. On his wrist he had a black plastic brace, and he leaned heavily on a cane. He appeared to be in his 40s, but his gait was that of a man far older. He was shabby in dress and affectation, and bore dark, wiry hair and a pencil thin mustache. When the barista had filled his order, he sat down across from me and commenced having a conversation on his phone in such a lusty tone I couldn’t help but overhear.

“Hey, hey Ma? Yeah, it’s me… Yeah. Sorry to bother you again. I just wanted to tell you how it went with the lawyer… Oh he’s a reeaaal shitty son of a gun. Well, he told me… yes, the other tenets are getting paid for their suffering, but he doesn’t know that I know that. He told me that if I want to get my money, I got to go to small claims court to do it myself. Yeah… he’s real shitty. But he doesn’t know what this other guy told me, that the other tenants are getting paid for their suffering, but me, I got to go to small claims court and do it myself… I don’t know.

“But this other guy who lives down the hall, I talked to him and he says, ‘yeah, tomorrow when you go to church, I’ll go talk to him for you.’ I just came back from church. He didn’t go. He’s still sitting there in his pajamas. Yeah… So that’s it. That’s it. From now on, I just got to go do it for myself. From now on, I’m on my own. Yep. But that guy, he’s always so drunk anyway...”

Just then, he must have seen someone he knew out on the street, and he began banging on the window to draw his attention. Then he said, “Ma, I got to go... Yeah, but you are still staying over with me on Tuesday night, right? I said, you’re still coming over on Tuesday and staying with me, right? OK, good. OK… OK see you. Bye.”

With that, he got up, grabbed his cane, and made his way out the door, leaving at the table a mess of napkins and coffee cups.