A Chequer-Board of Nights and Days

I am something of a coffee snob, I suppose, but I am deeply proud to state that I have never, ever, ever driven any barista to the kind of insensate rage that Ben Domenech had every right to feel in a previous iteration. To the extent that I am a snob, it is because I generally take my coffee only at certain establishments and that I try to distinguish and discriminate amongst the best individual franchises that particular establishment has. And yes, my name is Pejman and I am a Starbucks addict. But I am quite easygoing when it comes to my venti cappuccinos and while I will tell a barista how I like my coffee if they ask, I do not even presume to tell them how to pull the shots, what temperature the milk ought to be and what specific prayers ought to be offered to the caffeine gods prior to imbibing a cup of joe.

Incidentally, would it be evil for me to want to see what would happen if people like Ben's Nightmare Customer From Hell were allowed to prepare their own coffee to their own specifications . . . and then drink it? If some overwrought coffee snob actually did get the chance to heat her milk to the temperature of molten lava and then imbibed the liquid consequences of her decision . . . well, I imagine that baristas would find the aftermath most amusing.