I am scientist by training, inclination and temperament. However, this is a blog, not a lab. The title reflects my passion for hyperbole, so don't take me too seriously. I don't. I was a technician in a physiology lab, got my PhD in molecular genetics and neuroscience, was a postdoctoral fellow in biophysics and now am a Project Manager in a Clinical Science/Biomedical Informatics institute. I am a scientific jack-of-all-trades, and very happy because of it. I write about science that catches my eye, making the transition away from the lab bench, and the slightly odd and moist boundary where science culture meets the public. I am an Englishman by birth, an American by temperament and if I were you I wouldn't lend me money.
My posts are presented as opinion and commentary and do not represent the views of LabSpaces Productions, LLC, my employer, or my educational institution.
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Dear dude who works in the cool new coffee shop in my neighbourhood,
About twice a year, on average, I sell my soul to the Feds and work like a madman to keep myself and my dozen or so staff in a job. Usually this whole soul-selling business means I am sleep deprived and just wee, little, tiny, bit grumpy. I know you know me because I've been to your cool little coffee shop a bunch of times, but you likely haven't seen me like this because your little shop hasn't been open since the last round of NIH submissions (when I was exactly like I am now).
However, something you *do* know is that I always tip for service. If I'm getting a "to go" order I might leave some change in the tip jar, if I'm "dining in" (as we might jokingly call it), I leave 20%. Everytime.
Today I didn't play the game right and left the cash in your tip jar while your back was turned. Then you saw the empty tip-line of my credit card reciept and assumed the worst...but, dear boy, the worst you should have assumed is that I had either left cash (which is better for you, FYI), or that I was just in a rush, or having an off day or something...but you didn't did you? You gave me attitude, and cold coffee, and somehow managed to fuck up bagel and lox...how the ever-living-fuck do you screw up bagel and lox?
Your attitude, my darling, darling child, left me no recourse. So, you know that $80 I found on the floor by the till? Oh, wait no you don't! Well, now you do (in a passive-aggresive open letter to the internet kind of way). That $80 I would normally turn in to you to "give back to the person who lost it", or obviously pocket as spoils of war at 5PM? Well, me and that $80 are sitting in my office right now, debating whether I should just throw this shitty food and coffee away and go to Einstein's Bagels across the road and see if they can't do better. I might even leave a tip.
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Is it not possible that this Barista who know you from so many days may be pissed due to some other reason for which you are not at all responsible?
I may be wrong. Just standing in his shoes.