The perks of being a wallflower.

I had to take Otto in for service today, and he turned out to need way more than just an oil change (I've apparently been driving around with a nail in my tire for quite a while now...), so I was forced to navigate this city by foot. Joy! I do prefer walking to most other modes of transport; however, this week I am studying for finals. That means I am carrying around a laptop, casebooks, notebooks, and all the essential studying accoutrements (yes, I spelled that the British way). So I found my way to a Coffee Bean and sat down on the outdoor patio with Wills and Trusts to bang out some serious studying. If you have never had the opportunity to sit outside a coffee shop for five hours on a nice day in LA, well - I'm not sure if I recommend it. But my experience was rather interesting, so I will now tell you about it. Then you can decide whether this is the sort of position you would like to put yourself in.

I arrived around 930am, spread my books out, whipped out the ol' iPod, and got down to business. About ten minutes into the slow abrogation of the Rule Against Perpetuities, a man came and sat down at the table in front of me. He pulled a stack of about 45 unopened parcels of mail from his backpack and proceeded to sort through them. He then made a phone call. It ended, "Great, I will see you in a few." I got back to reading as I awaited his mystery coffee date and was a tad thrown off when it turned out to be a woman at least thirty years his senior. His mother? No. Too formal. A lover? Exciting! Well, not quite. It turns out this woman was his therapist. I will spare the details, as I don't know much of it myself because as soon as I realized this was a patient-therapist conversation, I turned the volume way up and tried to tune them out. At one point I heard the therapist ask, "Do you love her?" and he equivocated a bit before saying, "Yes. Yes, I do." Okay, I'm sorry, but isn't there some sort of fiduciary relationship here that calls for meeting in a more private place? What about confidentiality? Doctor-patient privilege? I don't even care about this patient's privacy so much as I care about my right not to have to hear Freudian psychobabble while I'm trying to learn about trust administration! I mean, I could have jumped in twenty minutes before this lady started talking about the guy's relationship with his mother. The whole thing reeked of Oedipus right from the start. I totally called it, too. But I couldn't talk to anyone about it because I was in a public place - a place where one should never EVER have a therapy session. (As a sidenote, I am not at all against therapy. I think it is a useful tool. I just think it, like several other things I can think of, should not be done in public.)

Moving on. While that guy was being shrunk (er, artistic license), a group of three sat down at the table to my right. I gathered pretty quickly that the youngest was there for a job interview. Boring, boring, trustee duty of loyalty, diversification of trust assets, boring boring. Believe me when I tell you I was not even listening. I have little interest in hearing personal details of people's lives, especially when I don't know the people involved. But I absolutely could not help but overhear this one part of the conversation. The man interviewing asked her what she had been doing these past few months (the standard gap in the resume question), and she - I promise I am not making this up - said that she actually couldn't do much because she was recovering from her breast enhancement surgery. Well, actually, she clarified, this one was a breast reduction surgery. She had gotten enhancement surgery and they made them way too big, so her fiancee ("such a sweetheart") paid (as an engagement/wedding present) for her to have them fixed. Again. I should add that this was not an interview for a stripping job, or for a new Playmate, or for a bartender, even. It was for production of mechanical parts for some whatever or other. Now, I understand that this is LA, and people are perhaps a bit more open with their bodies than in NY. But, in no way is this appropriate during a job interview. NO WAY. I wasn't even part of the conversation, and I was offended. My virgin ears.

Ok, other than those two meaty offerings, I don't have much more to share about my experience at Coffee Bean. Two grown men played chess with Simpsons chess pieces. I thought that was mildly humorous. A law student I had never seen before sat by me with his First Amendment textbook and flashcards. We exchanged glances of mutual understanding re the woes of finals studying. He said Wills and Trusts looked like the most boring class ever, and I thanked him for his input. I complained about having an open-book exam, and he said at Southwestern all the exams are closed-book. I decided to stop complaining. An interested bysitter overheard our discussion of law school and noted that UCLA has an extremely high bar passage rate and is a great school. I told him I was aware and that I was pleased with my decision to attend such a fine institution. I mentioned I was promptly returning to NY after graduation, and he said, "Oh, from the little I know, I believe NY and CA are the two hardest bar exams." I told him I had heard the same thing. (This man clearly knew nothing about law school but read all the law blogs the same way my pops did when I first started law school. This guy, however, was lounging around on Coffee Bean's patio at 130 in the afternoon on a weekday in way too short shorts and a fanny pack. My father would never wear a fanny pack.) Eventually, he caught on to my curtness and began asking the male law student about a player for the Dodgers. Did he do this to politely allow me an escape from the conversation? Did he think because I'm a lady I wouldn't understand that thing the menfolk call "sports"? Eh, who cares? I got back to my studies, and he tossed a "Good luck on the bar" in my direction when he left.

As much as I enjoyed my time in the sun on Coffee Bean's patio, I nearly jumped for joy when I called and found out Otto was ready. I returned on foot to the dealership and found a happy, shiny Otto, new tire and all, waiting for me. I also found an eager Subaru man waiting next to Otto. My Subaru man and I have a nice rapport. He was deeply saddened when I told him (pre-Coffee Bean) my cross-country road trip was only going in one direction. He asked if I could come back and visit, and I told him it'd be difficult to swing, but I would do my best. After handing me my keys and discussing my car, my Subaru man and I shook hands, and he gave me a Subaru card with a number written on the back. He said he would love for me to call him if I had time in the next two weeks before leaving. I told him I was studying for finals, but I appreciated the gesture. And he said, "But you are such a happy girl! Always with a smile. It makes my heart so warm." I couldn't help but smile in spite of it all. (Perhaps he's just used to seeing disgruntled car owners who have to make alternative arrangements to get to work after dropping their cars off for service.) I do have to admit that my crass NY attitude/sarcasm and my perpetually cheery outlook on life don't always mesh well, but this Subaru man totally saw through me, and I loved him for it. I told Subaru man he would always be my friend, and we parted ways.