IT’S A STARBUCKS, NOT A SLUMBER PARTY

OR

WHY DUNKIN’ DONUTS RULES

Listen, buddy. We all get that you’re a writer. We know you live a freewheeling, freelance lifestyle that doesn’t involve cubicles or a commute or a shirt and tie or a boss or dealing with “people”, but is it too much to ask that you leave your beat up Chuck Taylor’s on over your socks while you’re in an establishment that serves food? Or that you leave your flip flops on? Or that you shower before you leave the house? I know most of my fellow writers aren’t like this, but there are enough of you out there to give all of us a bad name. If you’re intent on ordering a small coffee and then staying in a coffee shop for nine hours while you work on your brilliant novel, the least you could do is have some courtesy for the other customers. Nobody wants to see you splayed out over three chairs sporting a trendy, dirty beard, with your black-bottomed socks kicked up on a table for all to see as they ponder which roast they want to order. You’re a writer, not a vagrant. Thankfully, Dunkin’ isn’t “hip” enough to attract these zeroes, as if the only thing that will keep Aaron Sorkin from reading your snappy screenplay is that you ordered a Coolatta instead of a Frappuccino.

 

IF YOU DON’T WANT TO BE BOTHERED WHILE YOU WRITE, WHY THE HELL ARE YOU WRITING IN A PUBLIC PLACE?

You’ve all seen this guy or gal. He or she is huddled over a laptop with their ear buds or Beats headphones jammed into their lobes. They are either typing or editing in a fake trance, allegedly so inspired that they have no idea what is going on in the world around them… Furthermore, they have that look on their face that they cannot be bothered. But the thing is, they have the only bottle of honey that your wife wants for her tea sitting on the other side of their laptop. When you say, “excuse me”, these MFA burnouts will no doubt ignore you, too deep in writing the next Great Gatsby to respond, even though you know they heard you. Finally, after a nudge or a louder “excuse me” they look at you, so put out by your interruption that they have to stare you down and act like you will personally be responsible for the 45 rejection letters they’re going to get when they send out their manuscript. Feel free to point out to these self-indulgent scribes that if they want to be left alone while they write, they should stay home, or better yet, get a job so they can afford the WiFi they’re currently using for free. And all you wanted was the honey.