Unhappy Hour
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I spend a fair bit of time meeting with people over food and drink in my efforts to maintain a valuable social network. Consequently, I have seen plenty of happy hour crowds.
While taking my place at a bar to wait for an associate of mine, I noticed that I was being sized up. Halfway down the bar sat a woman in her forties, relatively thin, with dark hair and fair skin. She dismissed me immediately, taking care never to look my way again. Apparently I'm not even worthwhile scenery. There she sat on her barstool, hunching her shoulders, sitting expressionless, and staring straight ahead. It was supposed to be happy hour but she didn't look very happy to me.
Her disposition changed dramatically when a bartender, a pretty blonde lady of perhaps thirty got within conversing range. A few minutes later, the bartender was off to care for some other duty and Unhappy Hour continued.
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