Shuddup. Math is hard.
So I'm here, muttering brain things into my blog while I do all of the above.There may or may no be a cookie waiting for you at the end of this post.
This place is packed with college aged students, the tables they are sitting at covered in text books and laptop computers, the open books littered in bright yellow highlighting, and there's a distinct air of desperation in the air.
It must be finals week.
Even though they all seem to be studying hard, it's loud in here. The line at the bar has been long since I got here an hour and a half ago, and people are clustered around the end where they pick up their drinks; they're all trying to talk above the sound of the coffee grinders (I'm guessing) and the blenders (pretty sure that's what that sound is), so it's loud.
The sound isn't bothering me but I think it's getting to the kids.
I drained my venti black iced tea and took advantage of a sort-of lull in the line and got up for a refill; the kid ahead of me, his eyes looking dull and tired, ordered a Caramel Mocha Crapachino, and to his credit the barista didn't blink nor laugh. After college boy got his drink he shuffled back to his table and sat down with a sigh, and all I could think was that I am so glad I'm not going through that again.
Actually, I never really went through that. I don't think I pushed that hard in college. I got decent grade, but either the classes I took were a cakewalk, or I had teachers who didn't pile on too much at the end of the semester.
Could be either.
I'm not so smart that I think for one minute that it was easier for me. I just lucked out.
A while ago I got up to use the restroom; I packed up my laptop and headed across the store and was followed by a 20-something girl, who asked as we both waited for empty stalls, "Why don't you just leave your stuff on the table so that you have your place when you go back? Someone might take your seat."
"I'd rather lose my seat than the twelve hundred dollar laptop with the fifteen hundred dollar software on it."
I don't think she had considered that aspect.
A lot of people just leave their computers on the tables while they use the restroom; I've never seen anyone try to take one, but I sure as hell don't want to be the first.
A few minutes after I sat back down, my allergies began to mock me and I had to sneeze. Not a little, polite sneeze, but a couple of those gigantic loud sneezes that had it been quiet in here, I would have felt a need to apologize for. I sneezed into the crook of my arm, and the kid at the next table looked at me with surprise an muttered, "I never thought about doing that. That's a GREAT idea."
I'd like to take credit for it, but I was taught said sneezing technique by a 4 year old in Ohio (who is now 13 or 14, dammit) who pointed out that if I did it that way, my hands wouldn't be covered with my cooties.
And it's getting louder...
You know it's loud when the screaming 3 year old can barely be heard above the din.
It should bother me, but it's not. I'm working on a piece for Max, and oddly enough I can hear his voice cut through it all.
And peoples...I really think the kids working here don't get paid enough for the sheer workload they're doing right now. Dammmnn...
|Here's your cookie|