My boss made me take my laptop and all my hard drives, plus the sticky notes that have all my passwords which I keep plastered all over the agency memos that say to not write down your passwords….and leave.

I've driven to a local chain coffee chop in a strip mall about 2 miles from work.  I'll have to find a new place to work tomorrow…or home.

This coffee shop will not be my new temporary office space because:

1) The coffee sucks.  I've been here before when truly desperate and they consistently either burn the espresso or somehow all their brewed coffee tastes like HAZELNUT. I don't even like HAZELNUTS in their natural environment. I wish they'd go extinct. They just piss me off.  Add to that Elton John crooning "Your just a candle in the wind" and I feel like stabbing someone with my extraneous plastic stirring stick.

I ordered an Americana, no room for cream. What did she think I'd be stirring? My internal rage? Yes…

2) Some loud grandpa is here with his 4 year oldish grandkid and its obviously a regular thing.  Both are completely overwhelmingly obnoxious.  The only thing I hate more than HAZELNUTS is Cuteness on Parade. 

HOLYHAZELNUTTEDCHRIST it's actually the old geezers child. The guy has to be 70.  Yikes.  They've chosen to sit down next to me.  Perfect. 

3) The 20-something dude in front of me is downloading music which has slowed my internets down to a creep. Fucker.  He has a macintosh but is using windows software. Loser. 

The old geezer is a retired neurosurgeon.  Which makes his tipping the barrista 32 cents that more dastardly.  He has been chatting with some tired looking woman referred to as "Sister Jan"… She appears to have a hard luck story that she tries to put an unlikely positive spin on,

"So, I guess no one liked my dinner. But there is always next year…" sigh, "I'm waiting to hear back on my mole biopsy… Laura sure is a nice lady!"

I haven't been able to follow most of their conversation because it was too boring and the child kept interrupting to shove shit up his nose and lick stuff he shouldn't.  Like the seat of his chair. 

The former surgeon stopped a woman leaving to ask her about her hat.

"It looks ethnic!" he exclaimed. "Where did you get it?"

It was a black fedora with a band of metal pyramids around the base…and the anarchy symbol scattered about the top. What country or region did he have in mind?

"Spencers in the mall," she answered, confused. "It's goth…"

"Oh! Heavy! ….But you don't look pale enough!" he said. What a fucking dilrod. 

Still, my spirits are lightened.  I think all moles are suspicious.