I wrote previously about the old farts at my local–which is to say, global–coffeehouse. I made it back this week and they were there again, loud as ever, disrupting the calming influence of white noise with their boisterous banter.
Taking my cue from the now defunct Dr. Disillusioned, I decided to listen in, and here is what I heard:
Framing, rebar, ball joint, crank, sending lights, flange, wizz snips, reciprocating saw, soldering station, sleeve puller, threading kit, plug wrench, acoustic tile
And it thus occurred to me, perhaps not for the first time, that the language of people who actually work for a living is every bit as specialized as my own, and every bit as undemocratic, alienating, and frightening. I remain repulsed at my own ignorance, not of the intricacies of post-Marxist theory (to take but one example), but of all that makes the world work in a real material necessary way.
And yet, I remained pissed off that they had, once again, invaded my air space.
Have you considered that they might be speaking in code…..
You may have something there. Unfortunately for me, I’m terrible at cracking code. Maybe they’re plotting some kind of coffeehouse revolution.