I was waiting in the Honda customer lounge this morning for a courtesy van ride home this morning. Pacing back and forth in the lounge was a blowhard realtor, blabbing WAY to loudly on his cell phone for a long time about the Las Vegas market, how he was such a great realtor to be doing business with, how he knows the market better than anyone, yadda yadda yadda. If was really annoying, and I couldn't read the book I brought along because he was so distracting.
He ignored my meaningful glances to STFU or take his conversation elsewhere.
I sat myself in the kids lounge next door. There were no kids in there. I was all alone until two other women from the lounge came in and asked me: "Are you in here for the same reason we are?" "The blowhard realtor on the cell phone?" "Yeah! Can we join you?"
We lamented the total loss of etiquette when cell phones were involved. We chortled that no one really asked for an invitation to hear his half of a rather long conversation, and why didn't he have the good sense to step into an unoccupied room to transact business rather than us having to flee the customer lounge to avoid his too-loud blather?
The courtesy van came, and I excused myself to use the courtesy phone to call Dim to tell him I was on my way. The phone was next to where the blowhard finally sat. He told me "I heard what you ladies said about me in there, just so you know."
Now why do I feel bad that the blowhard got his feelings hurt? That's the trouble with living in The Land of Polites, as Jenny Smith calls it. You care more about rude people's feelings than they care about yours. It sucks.
Posted by Jen at July 27, 2006 1:11 PM