Mr St Georges Terrace

James storms down the terrace with a can of Coke Zero while engaging in a robust conversation through his AirPods. Naturally, the phone call is only to one of his mates but he makes sure everyone around gets a big load of his power-words. 

He busts into the Cafe like he’s in a vintage Gillette commercial and when a young business babe is within earshot, he goes nuclear, “I’ll have to get instructions from MY CLIENT but if he doesn’t want to come to the table we’ll SUE his dick off, baby”. 

He mistakes her repulsed bemusement for a primal longing to be riding shotgun on his 2 stroke engine. Clean up in aisle 5, it just got a bit slippery in here. 

He doesn’t take his AirPods out while he orders, “short mac, top upped, honey”. Every morning he sends shivers down the young Coffee Club barista’s spine with this arrogant spectacle. 

James stands at the counter waiting, ensuring that his Longines watch is facing her at all times. Worried she hasn’t noticed his Swiss ice, he starts twisting the bezel around, making an ever so obnoxious cranking noise. 

She spots the watch. James lives for these moments and waits until her eyes are back on him – then, he hits her with the wink. That’s right, baby, entry-level horology. 

Back at the office, James fires off an email to some colleagues, “got that big meeting now, let’s hope I seal the deal 😉 jk ofc I will”.

He slips on his suit jacket and meets with his senior colleague, “look, James, just keep quiet in there and take notes OK? Only talk if someone specifically addresses you“.

Oh, that’s not really large and in charge, mate. James dies a thousand deaths at that moment but his delusion is strong enough to keep his swagger going.

Once in the meeting, his senior associate professionally castrates him, “Sal is doing a settlement, James could you grab us some coffees and the pastries from the kitchen?

Damn, son, that’s brutal. James does as he’s told and returns to the meeting to sit as quietly as Gough Whitlam during Malcolm Fraser’s happy birthday song.  

After the meeting, James slinks back to his cubicle, loosens his Van Heusen tie and shoots a fellow shitmuncher a gun finger, “nailed it, we got the settlement“. Making sure to lower his voice when the senior colleague walks within earshot. 

To celebrate another professional fabrication, James heads to the local pub to blow off some steam. Within the first hour, he’s several pints down, has told 3 people his hourly charge out rate, given out 2 business cards and given unsolicited legal advice to a bloke who didn’t have a legal problem. 

As he’s leaving he hears the familiar requiem to his company, “that guy is a fark’n clown“. Nailed it, James. 

Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?