The Blog of The Dave

…and stuff.

Karma?

Posted on | March 5, 2008 | No Comments

Throughout this week I’ve been training a guy at work, Ian. He seems cool enough. He works pretty well, for the most part, aside from a bit too many cell phone calls and text messaging interruptions. It’s a little difficult to keep him on task with all of the interruptions, and I hate being the asshole who has to say, “Put the phone away.” But, Hell, every time someone else sees him using his phone they look at me like I’m supposed to be cracking the whip. *shrug*

Sorry, I went off on a tangent before I even started writing about what I had planned on writing about… So, anyway, this guy’s pretty cool. He’s a bit young – 19-years-old – but we get along great. He makes me feel old though, what with him having no knowledge of anything ’80s related, and that’s just plain wrong! I mean, c’mon! THE EIGHTIES WERE THE SHIT!

God damn it, another tangent!

Wait, here’s another one: The guy is trying to get out of the habit of saying “That’s gay” all the time. Actually, he says it pretty seldom, so I’ll give him credit for that. On one of the first days of training him he said that about something and I just shrugged it off. When he said it again, knowing that I’m gay, I told him that I had let the first one slide, but not a second time. He apologized and has only goofed up, maybe once… and I didn’t really bother with bugging him about it. It’s bad enough that I have to bitch at him about using the cell phone so much. Hell, if he weren’t around I’d be text messaging my friends all day long but since he is there, I have to be a hypocrite and tell him to knock it off. No fair!

Okay, back on topic… So, he and I take lunch together and wander down to the nearest Starbucks. As is generally the case, there are gay guys working there. I know they are gay because I have decided such. I have determined that all guys who work at Starbucks are gay. That’s all there is to it… ’nuff said. What annoyed me is that the gay-boy barista flirted with Ian, not me. I mean, c’mon! I’m the gay one! Flirt with me, not him! Pfft! Bastard!

The next day we go to Starbucks again. It may be a different Starbucks. Who can keep track? It was certainly a different barista-boy. And, again, this fucker flirts with Ian, not me! What am I, a troll? *glares in his general direction*

The funny thing is that Ian and I both observed that the barista-boys were noticeably more friendly with him than they were with me. For me, they slapped my drink on the counter and pointed at the door so that I would hopefully vacate the establishment before they reached their quota of ugly for the week. For Ian they rolled out the red carpet and shined a spot light on him after a make-up girl trotted out to blot his face only to realize that he was too perfect to even attempt to improve. At least that’s as much as I could see after they put the paper bag over my head and shoved me out the door and tied me to the tree next to the basset hound.

The hound also got more attention than I did.

Ian, on the other hand, didn’t care for the extra attention from the various barista-boys, deflecting their gazes with his magic Wonder Woman bracelets. Oh, wait, that would be kind of gay. Okay, he deflected them with his testosterone-powered Spartan shield. All the two of us could do was give each other knowing glances as we would later walk into other Starbucks to hear the twinkling flutter of a faggot-barista-boy’s voice – knowing that Ian would soon be flirted upon. I would proactively put the paper bag over my head.

Today, however, we walked into another Starbucks, sans gay-boys. In their stead was a hot chick working the register… she didn’t give Ian a second glance. I reveled in his misery.

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Category: Bitching, Gay, Work

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