Mean Rubber

Photo by poolski

It’s four o’clock on a Tuesday afternoon and I’m anxiously awaiting my meeting with yet another disgruntled customer in the tragic pose I always find myself in before these weekly disasters: hunched over a bar, staring into a pretentious beer I can’t afford, wondering how I got here and how much this is going to hurt. While one hand swirls suds, the other is clenched and desperately in need of a cigarette. Alas, there will be no smoking. Heaven forbid I pollute my lungs while my blood pressure’s rising and the brews break down my brain cells. Read more…