Privacy

He looks like such a nice young man. His blond hair is gelled into spikes, contradicting the ice blue Polo shirt he's wearing. His Toshiba laptop is open, and his Blackberry is resting gently on the table next to his venti drink. Next to the drink is a stack of bills piled a good five or six inches high.

Someone has been on a shopping spree.

Our nice young man is talking to himself as he opens his bills. Wow! He's going to have a bit of fun. He's taking a trip to Sweden next month. But wait! Uh-oh! He just ripped open the Amex bill and dropped the f-bomb.

"How the f- am I gonna pay that off?"

Most of us pay our bills at homes where there aren't any nosy writers sitting there tapping away in a seemingly innocent fashion. Most of us don't lay a thick stack of envelopes on a table in Starbucks so that complete strangers can observe the look of shock and awe on our faces when we slit open the envelopes and see how much we owe for those lengthy cell phone chats or credit card splurges.

I'm observing and overhearing far more than I should about his spending habits. He's talking out loud, even if he isn't really expecting anyone around him to answer his question. I'm pretty sure that if I responded to his questions, he'd complain that I am invading his privacy.

Am I? If I can hear him is it an invasion of his privacy?