Saw an old friend today, from one of our past client companies. I’m always a bit surprised whenever I bump into someone I haven’t seen in a long while; either because they haven’t changed at all, or they’ve changed so much that they’re practically unrecognizable. This girl, I’m happy to report, was positively stunning. Which isn’t to say that she wasn’t traffic-stopping attractive back when I was hanging out at their office last year, but sipping her coffee today at Seattle’s Best she was blindingly radiant.
I write this, of course, as part of a much larger rant.
I didn’t go over to talk to her or anything. I just sat there and waved and went on smoking my cigarette, and reflected on the last time we saw each other. (There was almost certainly alcohol involved, I decided.) Then some other dude with short cropped hair, big Raybans and an expensive-looking laptop backpack sat down beside her and they started chatting, and after awhile I realized that I had also met this guy at that old company. And then I thought back some more and remembered her rather distinctly telling me how he was such a prick to work with, how she hated having to report to him, and yet here they were together a year later. Cozying up at a coffee shop in the middle of the nicest address in the Southern Metro Manila area.
After a few minutes, she pointed me out to him and for some reason, Mr Raybans decided to get friendly. He sidled over and started asking me for advice about this new Macbook Pro he had just bought — if I knew anything about warranties, where I got my repairs done, if I’d seen the new iPhone, etc. He was polite enough not to make a comment about the ridiculous condition of my own MBP, but there was a distinctly patronizing air to the entire conversation that I didn’t appreciate in the least. She never joined him, and I watched her out of the corner of my eye sitting there prettily, waiting for him to finish with his Rayban-powered posturing. Finally we both ran out of irrelevant things to say and he got up, instructed me to "keep in touch, pare," and the two of them left together arm-in-arm.
I leaned forward and watched my cigarette extinguish itself lazily on the tray.