Starbucks. It’s the morning rush. The collective caffeine deficit is palpable. It’s that special time when the thin veneer of civilization is pretty much at its thinnest. In fact, in something of a cultural paradox, the only thing keeping the line itself from devolving into a savage mob is that people haven’t had their caffeine yet, and therefore really lack the energy to rip one another’s limbs off. All that, and this woman has a list. A list of no less than ten drink orders, each of which is somehow miraculously more complex than the one preceding it. I swear at some point I saw the ghost of Obi Wan floating over the barista’s shoulder saying, “Remember your training. You can do this.” Seriously though, a list at 8am? Don’t be that person.