I am sipping my coffee, designing. People gather for a meeting. One man, four women. Professionally dressed, they quickly open their identical notebooks. The meeting begins. A young man enters the scene dressed in loose fitting fitness clothing holding a helmet and carrying a small pack. He rushes in, says he is just looking around, walks around the room, sits down, picks up the times and pretends to read. Attempts to catch falling helmet twice. The meeting is getting louder, conversations consisting of coworker gossip, hairstyles, and one certain obnoxious woman attempts to be professional by holding a pen in her hand, pointing to a cell in the screen, using expressions such as "this one here just kills me, what are they talking about here?" Constantly repeating this confusion of different cellsshe then will immediately continue about how inconsistent her husband is, and how the lady in the cubicle next to her smeared lipstick on the quiznos cup sitting at the desk. The boy with the helmet makes a racket then quickly exits. Two chairs behind me, a couple are reading and discussing the material in their hands. I recognize the man as my English professor, Dr. Moore, a studious man who's life consists of literature, and has immense skill in analyzing what he reads. He recognizes me and we communicate briefly. One woman in the meeting is ignoring the rest of the group and actually is doing work. The others are making fun of her for not participating. She leaves. They continue their fruitless gossip and useless chatter. A couple around the corner are discussing the future of their son, worried he is taking the wrong turns. No, perhaps not. It is a man and possibly a good friend, or a counselor of some type. Soft spoken, encouraging type, she couldn't be his wife.The code on my screen is frustrating my brain, forcing me to turn more attention to it then I wish to. An employee who works here enters and greets me. She goes behind the counter and takes the role of brewing various beverages. My venti is starting to grumble as I sip the last drops through the green tube. I pull it through as loudly as possible, disturbing the "meeting" taking place. I am glad they are not my employees, they would be fired. a few school kids enter, ordering overly sweetened drinks. They go and lounge waiting and chattering, then exit to the tables outside.A man dressed in dark pink from head to toe enters. He must work in the hospital. He orders 5 various orders. Gopher apparently. The "meeting" has forced me to become angry, all their useless chatter, pretending to be business like, yet terribly failing as immature fakes. Go work at walmart. idiots. I get frustrated with the design. My cup is empty. I leave.
What is this place in which I often dwell?
