“I’ll have a double latté and hey, what kinda phone you got,” Cell Phone Sales Guy asks the barista. “I hope it’s not wanna them iPhones. They don’t got the 4G.” People, my coffee shop is totally a target-rich environment.
My signal strength is going up.
“I mean, Mac is OK and all, but they don’t make the ones with lots of 4G,” he says.
And the barista comes back with the only appropriate answer. “Um…” she says.
“I gotta alotta phones I can show you,” he says. And then I get it: I’m watching a master pickup artist in action. And by “master,” I mean “please stop this pain now, and by “pickup artist,” I mean “spending every Saturday night at home with your mom isn’t so bad at least she made cookies and the Xbox isn’t broken so let’s go frag something mom stop vacuuming I can’t see the TV this really sucks.”
But, hey. At least he’s trying. So there’s that.
You get on with your bad-ass self, Cell Phone Sales Guy.