Who Is The Wanker Now?

Spent Friday afternoon at The Hospital working with my Head of Planning on a presentation we're doing. It's a private members club the senior management at Digitas are members of. It's great for entertaining clients and for getting away to do work, as we did. Good food, good service. It was just too bad about the clientele. I'd always been envious for status symbol reasons that I wasn't senior enough to get a membership.

It's the kind of place habituated with arrogant ATL advertisers. It has it's own recording studio, so maybe it's also used by people in the film industry. Or ATL creatives who are frustrated film directors. You know the kind. Too old to be wearing skinny jeans, black metal studded belts, T-shirts that don't quite cover their budding bellies. And some sort of complicated, highlighted haircut.

Upon leaving, I took the lift down with 4 blissfully-unaware-of-me people that I'd seen earlier. They had left their stuff on a table we needed so we could spread out. They're right, I suppose, but it was a little inconsiderate. In the lift, they self-confidently poked fun at each other and laughed alot. They were all dressed very well. My judgement of them was an attempt to be fair, and not let my own circumstances cloud it.

I'd decided that while their self-confidence and obvious financial success were annoying, I couldn't really find any moral or other fault with them.

Outside, on the street as I was walking towards the Tube, two of them tried to hail a black cab. The man whistled and held up his hand. The woman screamed 'Taxi! Taxi!' as if the driver could hear her through closed windows, with the radio probably playing. His light was off, meaning he wasn't picking up passengers, and he passed by without stopping.

'Cunt', said the man.

'What a wanker', said the woman.

It was then that they went from mildly annoying to proper totally self-involved assholes. And it's why I am no longer jealous that I don't have a membership to The Hospital.