The asshole at the coffee shop.

As a straight, non curious, tough rough chap, I've always been respectful.

I meet people as they are. I'm a support for the downtrodden, hero to the underdog, a helping hand to those who have been knocked down. 

For this reason, I have always had huge issue with bullies, biggots and 🩸y knob heads. 

I've been trying a new coffee shop out. 

I've always been a cash guy and I tip. A week in, same time each day, they know me.

Unfortunately, I seem to share my morning coffee with an asshole. 

I'm not au fait with gay identity or 'types' so forgive me, but he is clearly out. He is a prancer. A dancer, loud 'proud' and  cuttingly quick in his venom for those who displeases him. 

Each day he has come in behind me. Chatting loudly on his ear pods, orders a frothy mocha low fat non fat skinny waste of good coffee. 

Adds a ton of sugar and basically, annoys me. 

Yesterday, as I was waiting for my order. He took offence at something that happened at the counter. 

Some simple error, some easily correctable mistake that led to the end of the world, R.A.D.A performance extrordinar, meltdown and filth spewing verbal attack on the poor barista. 

I thought the poor chap was going to cry. His eyes welled up, a little quiver on his lip and still Mr Poison was venting. 

I stepped in. All it took was an 'Easy there'... as if i was talking to a naughty pooch. 

The Barista looked relieved, the stupid asshole looked... well, a little turned on. 

This morning, I ordered and my new friend the barista pointed behind me and said "your order is on him". I turned to see Mr Drama queen give a little wave. 

"I don't think so" I told the barista. He laughed and took my offered cash. I tipped double and waited for my order. 

In conclusion. 

Feel free to tip or treat me. Feel free to reimburse to your hearts desire. 

Unless you are an asshole. 

True story. 

GOD. The opportunity facilitator.

As well as growing up with a little servanty chum, I grew up with a dude who became a priest. 

Without getting into a deep and meaningful, he's my mate first and foremost. The fact he's a priest doesn't phase me.

Now, him giving godly advice to people facinates me. How ever, he did say something I thought was quite insightful..

If you ask for patience. God isnt going to give you patience, he will bless you with the opportunity to be patient. 

I'm not comparing myself to any kind of deity, but if you want an opportunity to serve, say hello. 

I'm sure we can find some common ground. Especially if your servitude isn't based in a sexual thing. Sometimes servitude is enough to give you the validation you need. 

You have my blessing to reach out. 

HR issue. Bullying or servitude.

The office can be a tricky place to navigate. 

Now Steve and his servitude has raised a question in my mind. 

I'm all for servitude. I'm going to write a list maybe of all the tasks I might let him perform.

However.

It's a busy office and stupid Sue has her eyes everywhere. 

Yes its my company. But at what point am I going to have a conversation with HR about workplace 'bullying'.

His accounts job spec doesn't include bringing me tea or picking up the hole punch holes...

People are going to notice. 

Maybe I need to terminate Sues contract.

Or get Steve his own dungeon office where he can do the accounts in his underpants in peace. 

Stupid Sue. 

Stupid pathetic Steve. I hope you read this. You are causing me trouble wuth your slavey ways. 

I'm off for coffee..

Whos gonna pay? 

Servitude by request?

SERVE ME I AM THE MASTER....

Echos of fallen respect, mediocrity and fakery.

Servitude shouldn't be requested.

It should just happen.

Like Steve in accounts.

I don't ask for a cuppa. He just brings it to me.

He even emptied my bin, even though we have cleaners, he just, emptied it.

(Thinking about it, maybe he'll go through it and try to get enough info to hack our bank accounts.... maybe he'll need sacking on monday)

Anyway.

If you want to serve. 

Serve. 

The beginning.

When I was 18, My friends mum told me to be gentle with him because he was in love with me. 

I knew he was gay. We’d known each other for ever, he was a good dude, one of the gang. He wasn’t a follower, but he was a follower of me. We were little and people referred to him as my shadow. I remember we went to a friends birthday party and he went to the buffet for me. Filled it with sausage rolls and crisps and egg sarnies and Mr Kipling lemon slices. One of the girls called him my servant and he positively beamed. We were doing romans at school and he said: “He is my general, I’m his cup bearer”. 

Later, when we went drinking and partying, he’d buy my drinks, he’d buy drinks for the girls I was chasing too and even at one point, one of them referred to him as my little bitch. Being my mate, I told her to fuck off, not to speak to him like that and well, it ALL kicked off. 

Next day, hungover and eating toast in his mums kitchen, black eyes and cut lips all round, he’d recounted the story to his mum, gone to the toilet and she’d told me to be gentle with him because I was his first love. 

Being in a reflective mood this morning, sitting in Costa, I think back. I’ve always been, assertive. Remembered. For example, here, in this busy coffee shop, my morning order is always just, there  and my different afternoon order is always remembered. It’s always ready even when I patiently wait behind the other customers. Jo remembers. I remember calling him a good boy once and thought he would cry with joy. 

I hate people self titling themselves as ‘Alpha or Master’. These titles should always be given by others. Anyone referring to themselves as these things need to self validate. Maybe some will comment as such on this blog. Who knows. Make your own decisions. 

Now knowing my friend for all these years, maybe he was in love, maybe he was infatuated, but I think it was more than that. Even as boys, he just wanted to serve me. It was his thing. And guess what. It’s perfectly fine because I loved and supported him and still do. If he wants to serve. Then I’ll let him. That’s what makes him happy. 

We finally got a house. A little gang of us living in this 💩ty house. It was great. Girls, Party’s and more. But still, he’d bring me tea. He even did my washing. TO BE CLEAR. I never once asked him to. 

Years later, he got married and I was sitting at a table with a bunch of his new husbands friends. One of them, a giant bear found out who I was and said: “ YOU ARE THE MASTER”.

It turns out, My friend had spoken about me to his now husband and he in turn had shared worries about me to these very friends. Putting me on this pedestal, this watch list, on this table so his friends could scare me away. Over a few bottles of red, my new bear of a friend told me all about this dynamic, this way of relating, this master/sub slave fag thing. It was eye opening, a little scary but actually, made so much sense. SO MUCH SENSE. 

So now, here we are. My friend is still my friend. I don’t let him serve me as now, I know it’s servitude and I just want to be friends with him. He is one of the best. His husband has less fear/concern over me but to be honest, this guy is more of a fag than my bud has ever been! 

Life is an adventure, an adventure we share with so many. Why am I here? 

To learn, to grow as a human. Understanding each other is the first step to inner peace. I’m a successful straight happy chap. I’m not at the bottom of the food chain. I’m not here to add to your feelings of inferiority or fuel the fires of your low self worth. If you, like my friend, are a serving kind of chap. Looking for a new ‘head of the queue’, say hello. You can buy me some adblue for the Mercedes and I’ll help with that need to pay, to serve.

This was my beginning. 

Feel free to connect and share yours.  

First Blog.

Obligatory first blog.

Why am I here?
It all starts with the 'gentleman' in accounts.
He left his workstation unlocked and his owned fags account up for all to see.

Now my question is this: Did he do it under instruction? Judging by the way he couldn't look me in the eye during our afternoon meeting means he probabaly saw me at his station whilst I was there.

This of course, triggered my fascination and resulted me being here to understand it all a little more.

Introduce yourself.
Don't feel the need to conform to whats gone before. We'll find our own way through it all.