Nothing Screams "I'm Important" Like Screaming "I'm Important" Into Your Cell Phone

Who wants to know all about a certain financial sales guy ("B.C.") who works for a certain investment company ("The H.") and his very important phone calls today? Better yet, who wants to know all about B.C.'s clients (and The H's clients) who purchased financial products today, hold old they are, their addresses, and how much money they have to invest?

I'll admit that I'm somewhat possessive of my favorite downtown (but more specifically Capitol Street) food and coffee spots...but if the feel of our quaint, homemade ice cream shop, independent coffee/book/art store, brick-paved sidewalks, and historic buildings is gone, it's just another day at the office. And every day I share this space with my co-owners which are comprised of my fellow Charlestonians and our visitors who usually understand, even if intuitively, that this is a cool space and one should not be, well...uncool.

I'm not a xenophobe. I love people. I talk to people everywhere I go and I'm sure strangers often think I'm nuts for getting all up in their beeswax if the mood strikes me. But B.C. was so clearly not from here, and was so clearly clueless. How do I know for sure? FIRST, the six degrees of separation that exist everywhere else in the universe are reduced to two in Charleston. If you don't know a person, someone you know knows them. And I had never even seen this guy. SECOND, he said he's not from here on his cell phone.

But the problem is, B.C.'s employer (The aforementioned H) supplies him with a cell phone that very obviously has a weak microphone. B.C. is forced to sit in an otherwise peaceful, chill Ellen's Ice Cream and conduct his very important business in a voice so loud that I'm sure he's going to lose said voice any second. I'm sure it was killing him knowing that everyone else was trying to get enjoy a short respite from the office life while he was forced to work work work work WORK WORK WORK.

My point is, I find a lot of comfort in certain things staying the same. It's one of the reasons I like living in Charleston. I like the places and I like most of the people, who I consider to be open and friendly. B.C. disturbed the peace one can usually expect with your White Bean and Arugula Soup. He was not only obnoxious and obtrusive, but disturbingly lacking in any concern for his clients' personal information. Luckily, we don't get many of his kind round hya. (Melissa was similarly-surprised when she encountered some Ralph Nader supporters on the street, who not only lacked in manners but civility.) So that's all I've got to say about that.

OH! One more thing. Isaiah...the only aggressive semi-street person we have downtown...the one who makes you listen to some wonderful, happy, crap story before he loudly accuses you of lying and racism when you won't give him money...I've had two fairly serious run-ins with him. I mean, ask me for a dollar for a beer, and don't insult my very humanity, and I'll probably give you five dollars. But act like an ass, especially in front of my children? Heh. Both times in the interactions with Isaiah, my occasionally-surfacing fluid temper (the one that makes me extremely calm and makes my words, albeit sharp, flow calmly and coherently) took over and I was not intimidated. Today, never remembering who anyone is, I'm sure...Isaiah approached me with his wide grin and started with a few words. Before he got within five feet of me I shot him a severe look and he said something like "Urrgghhh" and retreated. Score three for Tina.