Relish

This morning I found myself walking across the piazza of the Grand Millennium Plaza after the gym, Green Tea Frappuccino in my hand, wearing my new, white trousers from Armani Exchange and a dark blue polo shirt hurriedly on the way to my design studio to catch up with work. I was everything I was brought up to hate. I blame Bob Dylan (or, more specifically, my childish interpretation of Dylan) for teaching me to despise anyone in a suit, anyone with money. It’s a defeatist attitude that allows people to dwell in dead-end jobs, in ill-fitting clothes, eating mass-market food from discount stores, with the defense that they are somehow anti-establishment. I was so hungry, I drank my Frappuccino with relish, hoping no one would notice me, till I caught the eye of a passing businessman while I was licking my lips, and I saw on his face “that looks tasty”. That scum, that over-paid, corrupted, corporate whore. I liked him. I wanted to be his friend.