Dear Woman on Your Cell Phone in the Coffee Shop Where I’m Working:
We can all hear you. All of us. The baristas. The owner. The old guy sipping his tea. The two women talking knitting. All of us.
You are on your cell phone—screaming. It’s beyond annoying. Not that you seem to care. You are, after all, talking to your mother. About vegetables. About Satuday dinner. About that Lifetime special. You are talking and talking and talking, and you’re really loud.
Of course, you’re not alone. This is what we do these days. We’re addicted to our phones, and they’re now our primary companions. They go everywhere with us. We stare at them with love and compassion and heart. We walk with our heads down. We drive with our heads down. There are people everywhere—real people, in the flesh—and we ignore them.
Oh, by the way, you’re actually sitting with somebody. Just thought I’d point that out. She’s sitting across from you, waiting for you to get off the phone. Wait, what’s that. Your mom is going to the spa next Tuesday? She needs a ride? Got it. We’ve all got it. Every. Single. One. Of Us. Because you’re loud and obnoxious, and completely unaware to our existences.
Have a great day.