Letter to a ‘friend’

Dear Uptight-Man-in-Pinstripe-Suit who accused me of jumping the queue in Eat this morning,

It was not intentional. The barista, who serves me every day, told me my black coffee was ready on the end of the counter, so I reached across to pick it up. It was only natural for me to start pouring milk into it.

Given that there were two milk jugs free to use, I don’t understand why you thought I was holding you up: you could have reached across and used the other jug instead of standing there like an imbecile. Even if there was another woman in the way with a big, cumbersome suitcase, I still don’t understand why you hadn’t bothered to sort your milk out before I came on the scene.

Because you were standing a few metres back from the counter I assumed you were still waiting for the barista to make your coffee. How did I know you were holding a cup of coffee waiting for milk. Why didn’t you put the milk in it when you stood up to the counter to collect it?

Honestly, the mind boggles.

I’m glad you got the stress out of your system though: yelling at a complete stranger must be so satisfying. You’re lucky I didn’t yell back. One customer, who approached me afterwards, said I should have punched your lights out.

I said I didn’t agree. I’d just spent 30 minutes wrestling London traffic on the back of a bicycle: I didn’t need to wrestle a twat in a suit as well.

I’m not sure what your problem was. Perhaps you just don’t like cyclists and seeing my hi-viz coat and helmet was like waving a red flag at a bull.

Personally I think you should take up cycling for yourself: it helps to lower stress levels for a start.

Yours sincerely,

Kimbofo

PS> I hope you enjoyed your coffee.

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