I'm worried about several friends who have taken their old age freedom and turned into coffee snobs. They demand only the freshest beans harvested under a full moon from secret mountain forests and flown in on fairy wings.
On a particularly trying day befitting the choice of a comforting cup of something that will strain my wallet, if not my sensibilities, the local donut shop is passed over in favor of the one which makes me feel an ounce -- or eight -- of privilege.
Essentially everyone I know has worked as a barista, including myself. So I understand that the barista is the unsung hero of the service industry. What I have issue grasping is why people insist on treating the slingers of their drug of choice so poorly.