Move Your Feet, Lose Your Seat

Dear man at the car dealership service center that just stole my seat,20130629-114459.jpg

If you are wondering why that spot on the leather sofa was nice and warm, it’s because I was sitting there for almost 2 hours before you decided to steal it. Granted, I got up for 15 seconds to talk to the service guy about my need for new tires… But the 2 large bags at your feet, coffee and breakfast in front of you, and open newspaper that I was – you know – in the middle of reading, should have provided you some clue that the space was occupied.

Don’t mind me and this heavy, uncomfortable fetus that I will stick out in front of your face as I huff and puff to gather all of my belongings. And the “excuse me” I muttered as I did so was actually code for “you are a douchecanoe.” Not that you would even know since you didn’t bother to look up from the douchey magazine you’re reading. Asshole.

I’ll go grab a seat in the corner, in that shitty metal chair. You take the comfy seat, it’s clear you need it more than me. Would you also like a bite of my bagel?

But don’t mind me as I hover and stare at you until you get up to talk to the same guy that beckoned me. When he tries to tell you that your vehicle also needs $1k + in work done, you WILL attempt to return to your seat to discover that the pregnant lady has reclaimed her territory as if nothing has happened. And you can sit your douchey ass in the douchey little chair in the corner, while I sit here and finish my iced coffee. Fuckwad.

The pregnant bitch you just fucked with.