On asking for a latte.
I had a meeting in a coffee shop this morning. The request was for cake so I chose accordingly. On my way to the table Tray in hand Slopping coffee everywhere The realisation hit me. Our lattes didn’t look in the least like lattes. On further investigation they didn’t taste like them either. So I returned to the counter with the words “These lattes don’t seem right.” After a little discussion, The girl behind the counter informed me that what I was describing wasn’t a latte at all. It was in fact a cappuccino... Cue prolonged silence as clanger descends. Now I’m quite forthcoming on my love of coffee. I can tell my flat white from my elbow. And to be honest, I’d been drinking lattes since before the person serving me was a twinkle in her Daddy’s eye. To cut a long story short I returned to the table with two lattes. They looked like lattes And tasted like lattes. We were happy. But the question on my mind recently has been When do we become unteachabl