old people.

I’ve worked in cafes since I was about 16 or 17 and for the most part I’ve enjoyed it. I like people, I like being in a good mood for no particular reason. Sure there are a few shitty customers and less than pleasant co workers but that’s like any job.
I’ve never felt like punching a customer in the face.
Until today. It finally fucking happened. And what happened wasn’t really all that punch worthy in retrospect.
I was on till (I don’t really like till, I’d rather be burning my hands on hot milk making lattes) and this younger dude with a beard comes up and orders a coffee. When I handed it to him he complimented me on my feather tattooed on my right wrist. “It looks like it just landed there. Beautiful” he said. I was about to thank him when an older gentleman in line behind him butted into our conversation.
“That’s there forever you know.” he said.
I wanted to look down, pretend to try to scrub it off, look up and say ‘OH SHIT’ and then run off, but instead I said
“Yes, I’m aware of that sir.”
“That’s going to look ridiculous when you’re 85″ he said.
“Yeah, well. I didn’t get it because it’ll look good when I’m 85. I got it because it looks good now.” I said.
“It’s just so funny, all these young kids are getting covered in tattoos. It’s going to be hilarious to see in a few years when you all start getting old.”
I so badly wanted to say “YEAH! BUT YOU PROBABLY WON’T BE AROUND THEN WILL YOU OLD MAN?”
But I just said “Yes, well, personal preference and all that. This tattoo is for me, not for other people.”
and THEN the old one, man of the mouth that would not close said
“You just aren’t thinking, all you young people.”
Anyone who knows me knows that one of my hugest pet peeves is older people dismissing young people based soley on the fact that they are young. Lumping all young people into one category that most of us are not of and sticking with it.
“Sir, I think often.” I said, slowly, with a smirk on my face. “Now, what can I get you?”
“Double americano” He said.
“Alright then, that’ll be $2.55.”
He threw down a buck and a quarter, grumbling something along the tattoo hating line, again and said “Here.”
“That’s not quite enough I’m afraid.” I said.
I very much enjoyed the fact that this old man was getting all huffy and throwing coins around so at this point I gave him a huge smile and leaned on the counter, both tattooed forearms facing him and said “And would you like room for cream?”
Finally he got the change sorted, nodded and shuffled off to the other side of the bar where my un-inked co worker Nick made him his drink.
At this point beard guy looked at me (he stuck around for the battle) and said “I really enjoyed that. Way to go dude.” and dropped a hefty tip in the jar.

That’s my story for the day. In other news, not much has changed at all. The weather here is beautiful lately. The weather is always beautiful here, even if it’s raining. I ran into Naomi and a gang of her school peeps on my way home from work today and commenced to bike to pizza with her. She mirrored my feelings of lonliness and said it was pretty rad that we hang out often. I agreed totally. I’m stoked on making new friends and stuff but I really miss my old crew. I miss the friends that KNOW me, and having Naomi around is fucking wicked.
Tom Waits is serenading me, my window is open, the moon is bright. Shit’s pretty dang good.
I hada huge idea last night. Things are brewing in my mind. A very large project will be upon me in a few weeks I feel. One that could quite possibley change my life.
Perfect.