Cellphone Douchebag

Last Friday, the Little Hunnydoo and I stopped in at the local Subway for a snack. First in line was a man and his two pree-teen boys who took for-fucking-ever. Behind them was a young chick, then us. Shortly after we joined the line-up, a dork in an expensive black car pulled up and entered the restaurant on his cellphone. He wore a golf shirt and pleated pants and I pegged him immediately as a douchebag. The only question was, how big a douchebag was he?

He hung up and said to Chick, "Hey, how ya bin?"

"Good," she replied without enthusiasm.

"When are we going out?"

"I'm booked up all summer."

"Get out! Serious?"

"People have weddings booked all summer."

Hunnydoo and I got the distinct impression that, while Chick was telling truth, she was also pretty happy to have that excuse to give him.

The father and boys buggered off, Chick placed her order, got her sub and turned to fill her cup from the soda fountain.

At this point, Douchebag called her on her cell phone from less than 20 feet away and said, "Call me sometime."

I looked at him and he flashed me a smile. I gave him one back, a weak, insincere baring of the teeth that clearly said, "YOU'RE A TOOL."

She snubbed him yet again and left.

We got our subs, sat down to eat them and Douchebag ordered four different subs and had to use his cellphone to consult about toppings, even though he had a list in front of him. He didn't speak to the "sandwich artist" except to give him orders. This pisses me off; these people are providing you a service and you ought to give them your attention.

It is my considered opinion that cellphones have made assholes out of us (well, not me, I don't own one and I don't need a tool to bring out my inner shithead). This jerkoff was living proof that technology is not for everyone.

Douche.