Brotesque. You know it when you see it. And if you have the fortune to live in a lovely place like Seattle, you see it all the time.
To clarify, these are the dudes (and some chicks too) who work in certain industries who believe they are your better without having spoken with you because they get a paycheck from a large corporate entity. And they occasionally ride public transit and think that because they are doing us all a green-themed favor, they shouldn’t have to rub shoulders with whomever they assume to be the hoi polloi.
I went to business school here, at UW, and I can assure you my classmates are not these people. By and large, my biz school peeps were cool as hell and not a rabid pack of narcissists.
Perhaps it’s just a matter of uncertainty, or lack of self confidence. All I know is I command the same salary as the brotesque, with half the attitude. And I allow people to sit next to me on public transit without the soul-searchingly deep sighs that one experiences when attempting to utilize what should be an open seat on a bus.
I thank my buddy Dave for helping me to come up with this term. You don’t have to love it. But I have to live with it. So, it will not go unmentioned. Fair warning, mofos, if you try to deny me a seat on the bus and moan like a wounded teen when I insist, I might just laugh in your face.