Bad Manners Day At Starbucks
I call it "Lunar Landing Behavior," as in, "Unless you made a lunar landing to get here, chances are, you're on earth, where there are a lot of other human beings -- who might be disturbed by your loud, rude, and/or slovenly obliviousness to their existence!"
The first practitioner of the day was the guy shouting about his money problems into his cell phone: "I SAID I'm sorry it bounced! The check'll be good by Wednesday!" Like me, the guys next to me turned to look and started laughing. Hmm, cash flow issues must be a real chick magnet, dude!
No sooner did the debt megaphone depart than the place was crawling with loud, underparented kids -- two of them (who went over like five). Surprise, surprise, the task was left to me to eventually suggest to a four-year-old boy on the loose that I was working (writing on my laptop), and did not wish to engage in either a discussion or a staring contest with him. I politely avoided mention of his running, shrieking, and table manners -- "table manners" perhaps being a misnomer, considering his food consumption was largely a table-free affair. Yes, I was gentle about giving him the brush-off. It's not his fault he was born to crappy parents.
The woman who looked to be his birthing pod, in a flash of parental-style involvement, asked to know what I'd said. "That I want to be left alone," I muttered, glaring into my computer, chagrinned that "parent your damn brat!" cat-fight energy and deadlines don't mix. She repeated this to her husband in a tone typically accompanied by eye-rolling, "Oh, she wants to be left alone." That's right. Astonishingly, I am not charmed by the presence of loud, running, jumping children in establishments that do not include monkey bars. Her son, by the way, jumped scarily close to my hot coffee at one point, while [I'll be generous] "Mom" was discussing, most hilariously, the joys of owning remote property in farm country where one is left alone!
Her little girl, maybe two, rivaled her brother in having the run of the place, spending much of their visit marching around jamming a big muffin into her face and exploding crumbs everywhere. Perhaps it's just me, but isn't it mommy's job to cut kiddie's food into small, manageable pieces, then "suggest" that food is meant to be eaten at the table? To the father's credit, he did make a half-hearted attempt to clean up some of the crumbs on the floor. Of course, proportionally speaking, his effort compared to using a eye-shadow brush and a tiny silver shovel to sweep up after Hurricane Charley. When they all left, a veritable orgy of crumbs still remained -- on the chairs, the table, and the table and chairs up front, which the kids were climbing on -- and still a lot more on the floor, along with crumpled napkins and other items they'd knocked off another patron's table.
The next people to sit where they were -- well, that is, after getting napkins to clean up the crumb-littered table and chairs the previous occupants left -- were a father and his well-behaved little girl, who'd just turned three (so her father later told me when I asked). What a contrast. The little girl, neatly dressed in a darling bright pink dress and little pink fabric mary-janes, sat quietly in her chair while her father went to get their coffee and food. Setting the tone for the rest of their visit, when her father set down her cocoa and cookie, she chirped in a tiny voice, "Thank you, Daddy." Thank you, Daddy, indeed.
Have some modicum of pity on them. I think at some point these otherwise drone-like people who ahve done everything they thought they were supposed to do, socities dictates-like having children, they realize what terribly mistakes they've made. They see us single people, child-less and marriage-less and they realize just how much they've screwed up their lives. They will have to now go home and have they beauty and splendor of their kids all night and day long. It's a wonder they're not main lining smack. so they let their kids run wild to sort of inflict some of the misery around and dilute their concentration of it. They enjoy it when the kids are bothering you because they are temporarily not bothering them. Hate then for being bad parents, yes, but also pity them for being parents at all. And just think what awaits them when they get back home-more payback than you could ever dream of giving.
volkay at August 30, 2004 9:59 AM
Well, if their splendor can't sit quietly and behave itself, maybe they should leave it home when they feel the urge for frou-frou coffee.
Amy Alkon at August 30, 2004 12:24 PM
This true anecdote happened about 30 years ago in a fast food restaurant on the Champs ElysÈes in Paris (France). The name of the restaurant escapes me and it does not matter because it has vanished to be replaced by a "MacDo" type.
An American mother (namely me) and her cute Californian daughter, no more than ten years of age, entered the sparsely filled restaurant because, of all things, craving for a hamburger w/French fries. Mea culpa, mea culpa! At the time, there was no queueing while waiting for your hamburger. You were directed to a table and awaited the delight that a waitress brought on a tray with fullsetting of fork and knife. As our meal was set in front of us, my daughter grabbed the hamburger with both hands and brought it to her mouth as any little American would do. I knew enough about French table manners Ètiquette to tell my daughter to please put her hamburger back on the plate, take the fork and knife and... eat properly. I'll never forget the look on her face! Is this my mother speaking to me? Has she fallen on her head? But she was too young then to rebel and did as told. I felt like laughing and crying at the same time but kept a straight face. And as I looked over a couple of tables, I saw a lady with a nice knowing elegant smile. That face looked familiar. No doubt she was American and obviously understood the situation. How I wish my daughter could have seen that smile. Lauren Bacall's beautiful smile...
Frania Wisniewska at September 2, 2004 6:26 PM