Barista: Hey cutie, what's your name and your puppy's name?
Me: Mandy, and she's Mocha.
Barista: Do you live in the neighbourhood?
Me: Not really, no, I'm just taking my dog to the vet...
Barista: So let me guess. You're one of those Between-Main-and-Fraser kids, you're 19 and you're from a privileged family, you just moved out of mommy's house and you work part time at a small boutique but just to pay for booze at the Astoria on the weekends because your parents pay all of your living expenses.
Me: No. But I can tell that you're 32 years old and super bitter about the fact that you still work in a coffee shop for a living and barely scrape by and regret throwing away your youth and probably hang around the Gastown/East Hastings scene hoping that a drunken 19 year old with self esteem issues will suck you off later that evening and pay for her own cab home.
Barista: No. But I'm sorry that you came in during my Being Rude To Customers Hour because you're alright, kid.
Me: ....... thanks.