Ban it, ban it now
In my beloved place of work there is a little coffee shop concession type thing where, if you’re lazy like me, and can’t be arsed bringing in tea bags or a six pack of diet cokes each week you can wander down and get a drink.
So you grab a diet coke from the fridge, hand over your groats to the chap or chappess at the counter and back you go to your desk. So far so good.
It doesn’t always work that way though, oh no, in fact pretty rarely. And why good people does it not work? Because there is always some arsehole who wants some skinny chocolate late mocha cappa fucking chino doobry watsit that requires said chap or chappess to spend half the morning pulling leavers, pressing buttons and causing all manner of weird and wonderful noises to come out of a machine. All to produce a cardboard cup of some revolting looking froth.
And then there’s two more fucking people in front of you who want the same thing.
Can’t these people just get a cup of tea or rot their teeth on diet coke like me? Can’t they just get out of the fucking way? Clearly not.
So that’s why I say ban frothy coffee, ban it now, ban it forever and ban it on pain of death before yours truly gets high blood pressure or goes into orbit in rage.