They’re the People that You Meet at Borders on Broad Street

It is funny to me what people will talk about in public on their mobile phones.

I was sitting in Border’s working on the next great piece of American literature when a gentlemen, and yes I am using that term loosely, answered his phone.

Now, he has an earpiece in, making it easier for him to hear his caller, but he is also using the speaker phone, making it easier for all of us to hear him.

I can’t tell you who called him, if it was a he or a she, I can tell you he hadn’t heard from this person since this person and someone named Chris made him feel like a ragdoll.

Then there was a pause.

Then he explained that he was sitting next to Chris the night this person was slamming into him.
Is it cruel for me to put this conversation on blast? Possibly. But he wasn’t being quiet about it. Sure, I was sitting right next to him, but the woman sitting at the table across from me, looked up at the “slammed into Chris comment” and we both raised our eyebrows and stifled a chuckle. So clearly, he isn’t worried about who heard what.

Now, just before Ragdoll sat down near me, Theresa stopped by to check on me. We talked about how things were going and in the course of our conversation people we knew were mentioned. Each time one of us said a proper name (read: not a nickname we gave the person) we would both look around and then lower our voice before saying it.

As I sat listening to Ragdoll, I wondered if Theresa had called me, would I have been so cautious as to see who was listening.

My guess, probably not. Just one more reason to hate cell phones, and one more reason I prefer texting or e-mailing to chatting.

Now, for those keeping score at home, I would not recommend working at the Border’s on Broad. Even without Ragdoll’s colorful conversation as a distraction, the tea tasted like a blend of piss and soap water and I had faster download times on dial-up.