If I was the barista and some hotshot exec type came marching through the doors, barking about ‘Where’s my mobile order?’ I’d say, ‘I’ve got your mobile order right here, amigo.’
And then somehow, in a single motion, I’d manage to both remove the plastic lid from the coffee and fling the scalding hot beverage into his face.
But man oh man: the coffee is hot! The man screams upon the initial impact, but what surprises me the most is that he continues to scream in the ensuing seconds and minutes following the attack.
Plus, other people scream, too.
And then I also scream because maybe in the total chaos of the moment, it’s possible for me to elude the near dozen eyewitness accounts simply by virtue of my staunch participation in the panicking process.
And then - just maybe - I can melt into the sea of concerned bystanders, never to be positively identified as the rogue barista.