MediaTel does it better…

Than the police, that is. Enforcing the law, that is. Like Charles Bronson out for payback. A Charles Bronson in loafers, that is, with his collar popped and oversize letters stitched onto the back that read: “Property of Douchebag Yacht Club”.

This has been a busy week in Central Douchebagistan and I’ve had so much work, I’ve barely had a moment to stop and complain. Most of my friends say this is a good thing, but I don’t have many friends, and they don’t call very often so I continue with the persistent nagging suspicion that I’ve let someone down by not complaining. Yesterday morning, however, I got a whole fistful of douche. Just around the corner from Gattaca, my serene and muted 25th century open-plan office, I was revving down from the fast run down the magistrala, taking it very slow up a wide, one-way street marked with the “mimo kolo” (except bicycles) sign so common to smaller, quiet streets like that. All had thus far passed without incident, but it is closest to home that douchebaggery is most likely to happen.

From around a double parked car sped a bright yellow manager-mobile branded with the “Media Tel” logo. Media Tel is the company that makes the Czech Republic’s equivalent of the yellow pages. I have no idea of the history of the company, but assume that it was one of the many state enterprises requisitioned by the son of whatever greasy, overweight slime merchant used to run it under the previous elected government (alias: evil communism, under which everyone complained, but few contributed – an apparent and unsettling parallel to the current state of things). I don’t know what else they do – probably they spam people and sell private data, who knows. Anyway, from around a double parked car (also Media Tel branded, by coincidence) sped a pimpled little middle manager eager to get to a parking spot close to the entrance of his office before ANYONE else. He aimed his bravado directly at me, forcing me off onto the curb and then trying to speed off before I could say hello. Not to be pointlessly disgruntled, I raced after him, watching as he tried to sleaze off at full speed but laughing victoriously as he was forced to stop by another parking driver. I approached his window, which he had quickly rolled up, and slammed on it hard. He rolled it down, shaking, which really pissed me off. How are you going to run someone off the road on purpose, with no sign of regret or even recognition of what you have done, and then start shaking in fear as the person you tried to kill approaches you? Grow a pair, Honza. I let him have it in English, infuriated beyond reason by his shaking, like a North Carolina Pit Bull that smells blood on a tasty little white kid wearing RocaWear. He fumbled with his mobile phone and mumbled something about the police, so I knocked the phone out of his hand, slammed his car again with my foot and rode off, with a few colorful warnings about what he could expect the next time he tried to kill me.

We work in the same area, Honza, and we’ll see each other again…


~ by themicah on September 4, 2009.

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