Dear Starbucks Drive-Thru Customer Last Friday Morning,
I know it's difficult to see the smaller cars from your high-altitude perch in that pearl white Escalade with shiny 24-inch custom wheels. But, SweetPea, if you'd just briefly lift your eyes from the rhinestone-encrusted Crackberry you've got wedged between your palm and the steering wheel, you'd see there's an entire world around you, just waiting to be seen. Trust me.
Like that guy back there in the early-model Toyota, who was kindly NOT blocking the driveway entrance to the drive-thru line by hanging back a car length or two while waiting for his turn. Conveniently, that was just enough room for you to swing your blinged-out land yacht into the space without missing a single keystroke in that text message that was clearly more important than paying attention in a very crowded retail parking lot.
I must admit that your deftly executed move simultaneously cutting off someone waiting patiently in line while also blocking me from being able to turn into the driveway from the main entrance of the parking lot would be regarded as masterful in certain circles.
Not in mine.
Although you didn't see it, Mr. Toyota backed up even further so I could pull into the parking lot and park my car in a space as I usually do. Try it sometime -- even though the huge effort required to actually walk the 30 paces into the lobby and up to the counter may be more than you can handle, it's almost always faster than sitting there in that long drive-thru line. You also get to have normal personal interaction with the baristas and other people waiting for orders. No thumb typing necessary.
Really, though, it's no wonder that you didn't see the purpose on my face as I stepped over to tap on your driver's side window. Or my fast-building annoyance as I was getting ready to tap again because you didn't show any sign of hearing it the first time. When you finally looked up, doe-eyed with wonder (see Big Wide World Opportunity noted above) that this could be happening, I waggled my finger in a clockwise circle, giving you the universal sign for Roll Down Your Window.
On account of your clueless response, I used a measured benefit-of-the-doubt voice to tell you that you had just thoughtlessly cut off Mr. Toyota. And that he had just thrown up his hands in disgust, adopted a frown line of day-ruining proportion, and leaned back in his driver's seat to accept his fate. Your genuinely baffled "Really?" was just enough to make my effort worthwhile as I said, with no empathy, "Yep."
I'm sure as you then performed that 37-point-turn to wheedle your way out of line and around to the back of it where you belonged, you were just incredulous that anyone would have the gall to notice much less say anything.
But that's just me.
Have a nice day.